


The Eternity Of Everything

by Dhyana



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Sex, Fanart, Infinity Gems, Life/Death - Freeform, Multi, Peter seems to like that, Some fighting, StarAccuser, alcohol and hallucinogenes can do wonders, all Lee Paces roles combined, also references from games/books/other movies, fanfic with art, many stupid jokes, so many meme references you will think you're on 9gag, the next fanfic where Ronan isn't dead, the other Guardians not that much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-07 17:51:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 35,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dhyana/pseuds/Dhyana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Ronan-centered fanfic  where he is brought back to life by Mistress Death to accomplish an extraordinary task - together with the Guardians. He isn't happy about that, so he shows his true face (not the one you're expecting, tho).</p><p>If THAT doesn't sound lame, I really don't know :D ... No, srsly, this fanfic has a real and serious plot, but it also aims to make you smile. Characters try to stay in-character, yet fail sometimes ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love making jokes. Guardians of the Galaxy cracked me up and hit the spot. The story of this fanfic is serious, yes, but here and there will be some funny moments. I don't want to spoil it, that's why I won't go deeper into explanation. I hope you will enjoy it :) cheers

The galaxy seemed so quiet. Vast and black, with just some far away stars blinking and shining their eternal light. Only one thing disturbed the void and blackness: a huge cloud of star dust, millions of miles away, illuminated the sky into different colours. From green to purple to yellow, the soft light covered everything that it touched with a warm shimmer. It was a beautiful sight and also a landmark that every band of outlaws knew. When the cloud came closer, so did their destination.

They called it their home, their secret hideaway: the Outlaw Post. Almost everyone was welcome. The outlaws were able to get medical attention and sleep, supplies like food, water or gas, spare parts or completely new parts as well as upgrades for their spaceships, and even more important for most captains: new members for their crews.

The Outlaw Post allowed to communicate on neutral ground. No one would ever dare to break the unwritten rules and attack another outlaw. If mortal enemies met, they would just ignore each other - too afraid to be banned from this valued place.  
The hideaway, sprinkled on big and small asteroids, was a collection of anything someone could find in the universes and galaxies known to man. Different types of shops, hospitals for any species, harbours, pet shops, bars and strip clubs... Connected via bridges or elevators, a round trip was done in less than a month. What sounded like a paradise also had its downsides. Even for the most seasoned captain it was a hard challenge to actually reach the main Post. If they were not skilled in the art of flight, they would either get lost or crash into an uninhabited asteroid, doomed to die. Maybe, just maybe if they had friends at the Post, they would get rescued - though most had no friends.

The ones who reached the Outlaw Post found a true hideaway and didn't have to worry about anything during their stay. No one would threaten them, no one would kill them, no one would steal from them. Almost every species could be found in and around the Post, from Centaurians and Protoss to Turians to Xenomorphs, and fairly new: Kree. Better said, only one Kree.

Normally, the Kree were proud and very loyal to their clan and race, not allowing a member to go rogue. The difference with this single one was that he should actually be... dead. Defeated. It just wasn't his decision to be brought back to life again. One of the most magnificent entities he had ever seen had touched his cheek, only to rip him apart and violently devour his body and soul soon after. Mistress Death was beautiful to watch but also a real pain. Her touch was as cold as ice and as hot as fire at the same time, piercing through skin, muscle and bone until the mortal part was no more. His soul floated in her realm, finally finding peace, until she had reached out to him again... Thanos, his former ally, was waiting for his revenge. Or so he thought.

It was a weird experience to see how Mistress Death gathered his atoms, which were scattered all over Xandar, rebuilding his lifeless body piece by piece, and then forcing his soul back into its old prison. His mind experienced an even greater pain when he took his first breath compared to the time when he took his last.  
Only one thing was different than he'd expected: he didn't wake up in Thanos' realm, but in a room of the Outlaw Post Inn. Mistress Death was hovering above his body, watching his struggle and listening to his suppressed screams, while he felt how every single cell of his body came back to life, one by one. Her work was done as soon as she brushed a single tear away. He felt a sharp pain where she touched him, leaving a little black scar. Fully restored but still unable to speak due to the pain, Ronan was slowly calmed and hypnotized by her beauty. His breathing went from rapid and uncontrolled to a more steady rhythm. With a faint smile on her alabaster face, she spoke to him in a ghostly, chilling singsong: "YOUR ANCESTORS AND YOU HAVE SEND MANY GIFTS TO ME, WHICH PLEASED ME GREATLY. YOU ARE A SOLDIER OF MY ARMY AND SHALL CONTINUE. REMEMBER THIS, RONAN OF THE KREE, YOU DO NOT BELONG TO THE TITAN, YOU ARE ONLY MINE."

The next time Ronan blinked, she was gone.

A cold shiver rushed down his body. It was so unreal to hear and especially feel his two hearts beating again. He had never been to this place before. He just saw the many asteroids and the signs that read "OP-A-1337" and "THE POST" when Death and his soul flew through space and ended their journey in this apartment. Ronan took a deep breath, growling and hissing slightly. It finally got easier and less painful, so he dared to have a look around by tilting his head right and left. A little lamp was burning next to him on a small table, and he himself was lying on a bed. His new - or old? - eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light and he could see another bed standing across the room. Some clothes hung over a chair with boots right next to it. On the bed was someone, or better said something. The Kree had never seen a creature like that before, but from the silhouette it wasn't bigger than him. And somehow not moving or making any sound - at all. No moving chest, no breathing sound, no detectable heart beat.  
The realisation struck him and it even made sense. That creature was probably dead because he was alive again. Great, not even fully functional but already a kill. Mistress Death gave him back his life by taking the soul of that guy over there. Somehow, he knew that there needed to be a balance in the eternity of life and death, but the Kree couldn't decide if he liked it to be back in the game or if he rather wanted to stay dead.

With no sense of how much time had passed during his death and rebirth, and how unstable his atoms still were due to that situation, he carefully started to move. At first a toe, followed by a foot, a leg, a hand, an arm, until he was finally sitting upright. The Mistress had made a good job, as expected: no body part was falling off. At least it seemed that he hadn't been dead for that long. Suddenly, the Kree remembered the condition of Xandars capital when Death had gathered his body together. He remembered that the city was not completely rebuild and parts of his beautiful ship, the Dark Aster, were still lying on the crash site. It must have been less than a year.

The Dark Aster... will he ever have a ship like that again? Was he still that warlord? The Mistress told him to continue, but he didn't fancy the pain of dying. Not after he actually experienced it. Some pain, okay, like right now, but a lot of pain because of some Terran with seizures, definitely not okay. With that line of thought his heart rates quickened and his anger grew rapidly. Anyway, he couldn't do anything when he still had to solve more urgent problems, for instance: was he able to move his legs and walk?  
The answer came with great struggle, but in the end it was a yes. Shaking and fairly unstable, he managed to get to the other bed.

His body slowly restored the nervous system, connecting brain with muscles and other soft tissue, remembering how to move and to use his full range of motion. His first impression of his new old body was slow and weak. The taste in his mouth was a mixture of dirt and rotten flesh. He couldn't feel, but all of his senses came back eventually. There were noises outside, voices, a bit of music and the occasional shout, weird unknown odors and vibrations when a spaceship flew over the hideaway.

The room started to get chilly and as naked as Death had reincarnated him, he grabbed the clothing which hung over the chair. The specimen on the bed was indeed dead. Its yellow-brown scale-like skin looked dry, almost like leather. The hair looked like black cables sprouting out of a large forehead, the eyes were like small black pearls, and that mouth... if it actually was a mouth? Those four big fangs implied that it was at least a meat-eating _predator_. Anyway, whatever it was, he or she was in no need of clothing. Ronan donned the wide, black pants, heavy boots and black shirt and was thankful for the first time in his - new? - life that there were other species around, who were as tall and muscular as the Kree.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't know why Death talks in CAPSLOCK, please please please go and read some Terry Pratchett! :D  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Awakening... of the Guardians. They all have a drinking problem except Gamora.
> 
> "We happy? ... Gamora! We happy?"  
> "Yeah, we happy."

The room in which he found himself was dimly lit and unbelievably messy. His head was throbbing and a pitiful, broken sound left his throat. God damned, he needed some water - or any other liquid to get rid of that headache as soon as possible.

He inspected the accomodation, ruffled his hair and lifted his body from the overly used mattress. With a big step, he lunged over Rocket, who was lying vast asleep on a white pillow on the ground. Drax was also lying on the ground, sprawled out as if someone had beaten him k.o. Peter couldn't decide if he got that headache from the alcohol last night or from that deafening snoring symphony brought to him by those two clowns.  
A small glass next to a faucet was his rescue. He gulped down 5 shots of lukewarm water and put another in Groots bucket. The little tree woke up and giggled in a high pitched voice.  
"Morning buddy! I hope we didn't put anything else in your bucket during the night?"  
The tree just waved softly from one side to the other, as if saying no, and smiled. Peter smiled back and wanted to grab his jacket when it suddenly knocked on the door.

  


Gamora leaned against the frame and had to fight back a big laugh attack when she saw Peters face.  
"You look horrible. And you smell as if you fell into a huge tank of whatever booze you guys drank last night."  
"Yeah, nice to see you too, Gamora. I am good, thanks for asking", he countered.  
She strode inside, making each step more careful than the last so she didn't accidentally trip over something or someone. She opened the blinds and a second later she asked herself why she had done that. This place was so filthy and smelled so terrible that she almost gagged. They had been here at the Outlaw Post less than a day. If a cleaning robot would see this, they would get kicked out - forever. Instead of blurting out harsh criticism about how the guys handled their sleeping quarter, she only said: "We are expected to see the Operator around noon. You have little over one hour left. Better start getting ready, otherwise we risk losing the job."

Some mutterings and moans came from across the room. Drax was awake and after sitting upright, he instantly cupped his head into his two big palms, followed by more moans. Gamora and Peter exchanged looks. While she rolled her eyes, Peter was shrugging his shoulders.  
"I know this ain't good, and I feel like shit, too, but I will have the boys ready and we will meet up at the bar, Gamora. I promise."  
"Don't promise me something if you can't keep it." Her disappointed expression ended the conversation and she left.  
"Gamora... he... ... nargh, goddammit! Guys, come on, wake up! Rocket! ROCKET!"  
The cybernetic augmented raccoon sat straight up like a candle...  
"What the hell, Quill? Are you insane?"  
... just to collapse back onto the pillow with a whining sound, holding his head as well.

"What type of mood enhancing liquid was that last night?", Drax asked with an almost inaudible voice.  
"Well, the liquids were strong brews from my home planet. I didn't know that they would crash us like a hammer. If you want to know more details: one was Vodka, the other Tequila and the last one Jägermeister. Just don't ask me what we had in between, I don't remember."  
A short silence.  
"Anyway, guys, just drink some water and get ready. We can't disappoint Gamora like that!"

Half an hour later, they were all on their feet and walking like zombies into the direction of the bar, which they had left just some few hours earlier. They sat down and ordered breakfast food to ease the maddening headache and to get some sugar and calories into their systems. Gamora was pleased to see them and joined the little group.  
"I am surprised, Peter."  
"Told you so. But... please, don't scream so loud, my head is almost bursting."  
Gamora raised one eyebrow, saying nothing, yet making a dismissive sound. Initially, she intended to keep that bitchy attitude, but in the end she couldn't handle the looks of her team mates and started to giggle until it turned into the laugh attack she had suppressed earlier.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys 'n gals so much for the kudos! ^_^ I am glad that you like it!  
> I also hope that you can handle my amazing drawing skills... XD More illustrations will definitely follow. After all... there will be an *adult* chapter sooner or later... y'all know what that means ;)
> 
> Hit me up on [tumblr](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/) or [deviantArt](http://gingerhair.deviantart.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Progressing with Ronans point of view :D  
> The Kree is very curious... he wants to know a lot and tries to understand things. But then they suddenly feel like a hot potato in his hands.
> 
> Can you feel it? Like... how serious I take this? xD  
> Have fun with the chapter, peeps!
> 
> Also.. never surpress your imagination and creativity ;]

There was a knock on the door. 

The Krees eyes widened and he jerked his head into the direction of where the sound was coming from. He crouched into a defensive position and listened. Not knowing what type of people inhabited the asteroids and with his somewhat weird behaving new-old body, he didn't dare to risk much. What if that was a friend of the corpse? Ronan had no weapon, not even anything he could misuse as one. 

A second knock. 

The rapping was an exact copy of the first knock. Ronan inhaled, exhaled and stood up slowly. The person on the other side of the door didn't call out a name and seemed to be patient. Or at least not in a hurry to meet up with the former resident.

A third, slow knock. 

Making no sound, the Kree tiptoed to the door, where a little hole allowed him to peer through the dark metal. On the other side stood a cyborg. It had no real face or facial expression for that matter. Resembling a human, with an oval head, two eyes, blue-white plastic arms, a humanoid torso, but two big rubber wheels for cruising around instead of legs, it stood there and waited. On the front, between the wheels, a sticker decorated the glossy hull, stating that this cyborg was "Item#62;Courier#449". The Kree could see that it carried something and was about to knock a fourth time.

The light, which flooded the appartment when the Kree opened the door to peer through, blinded him at first.  
"Hello. I. Have. To. Deliver. This. Letter. To. You", clattered a mechanical voice out of a hidden speaker on the side of the cyborgs head.  
"You...", a harsh coughing fit overwhelmed the Kree. He drove his hand up to his throat, realising how dry and sore his lungs and his throat were.  
"Do. You. Need. Medical. Attention. Sir?"  
He could manage a hoarse 'no' and after a minute and clearing his throat, he had his voice back. A bit more careful and controlled he began to speak: "You are sure that I am the right recipient for this message, cyborg?" He was surprised by his own deep voice. Maybe his vocal chords weren't fully restored yet.  
"Yes. Sir."  
"Who sent you?"  
"The. Operator. Sir. Please. Open. The. Letter. Immediately. Good. Day."  
The cyborg took off as soon as Ronan had the envelope in his hand. He closed the door and sat down on the bed where the Mistress had given him back his life.

His thoughts were racing. That cyborg had to be wrong. There was no way that anyone could know that he, Ronan the - former? - Accuser, was here! Impossible. He guessed that his death was celebrated everywhere, so no one could... wait... that was it... the clothing! The cyborg got confused because of the clothing! Ronan looked like the dead guy, just a bit more blue... and with no hair... also he was sure that he was more handsome. However, with that certainty he let out a relieving sigh. Incredible that his hearts were racing like hell just because of the thought that someone might already know that he was alive again. And referring to 'someone', he was actually thinking of Thanos.  
By Halas name, he hated that guy... Daring to refer to him as boy and demanding of him to kneel. Yet the Kree was glad that Death hadn't reincarnated him close to the titan. Ronan wasn't sure how to use this kind of restart but maybe staying here, unseen for a while, until he was sure that his body was ready for some serious work again, wasn't a bad idea. He could go _back_. 

Fumbling the envelope, he stood up, pacing up and down the length of the room.

The corpse, obviously not talking, made Ronan curious. He really wanted to know what creature had to die for him. Maybe the riddle would be solved by reading the letter? The envelope was ripped open in less than a second and bore a piece of gilded paper with a single, handwritten line on it:

_My dear Ronan, we need to talk._

The force of the shock was so instant that Ronan hissed and threw the paper away as if it was hot coal. Time stood still for a moment. He couldn't believe his eyes. The note floated peacefully through the air, carried around by a soft breeze from a ventilation shaft. It danced as if it was mocking Ronan. The beats of his two hearts were the only noise the Kree perceived. Unbelieving, he watched how the note landed in front of his feet. His name was written on the paper... That realisation came when he read the note a second time and was actually focusing on the words. What scared him most wasn't the content of the letter - it was the handwriting he hadn't seen in such a long time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for so many kudos! ^.^/)  
> This means a lot to me!!
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/), where I will upload the illustrations a bit earlier ^_^ö


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A good meal prepares for a good day! :D  
> Breakfast food is the best food.

After their meal they felt a bit better. Still not a 100% okay, but their headaches cleared slowly. The waitress-cyborg collected the used cutlery and dishes, while asking in a monotone, mechanical voice if they would like to order more. Paying in cash with the Posts own currency - so called tokens - Drax thanked the cyborg and stated that they were finished and would leave soon. After the cyborg took off, Peter wanted to know more about that mysterious Operator.

"Well, I have never met the Operator", answered Gamora. "It is said that it is a shape shifter, but mostly seen as an old lady. She basically runs this place here. Started it from scratch and built up a home base for outlaws. Many of them left their mark here by donating things. However, just look around you... would you really trust anyone here?"  
"Ah, hell no!", came the quick answer from Rocket. "Those jackasses here are way too shady. We should leave as soon as we have the job. Unwritten rules my ass! I bet some guys are checking out the Milano while we're sitting here."  
"Rocket, don't make me uncomfortable. I really don't remember if I locked my ship or not!" Peter was clearly in distress and the unbelieving expressions of his team mates didn't make it any better.

The place was crowded with all sorts of bandits and outlaws. Many were deeply involved in loud conversations, while getting drunk and gambling, whereas others were sitting far away and watching everyone very intensely. The bar had huge windows and was facing the big colourful star dust cloud. It would have been somewhat romantic if it wasn't for the noise and stench. All pieces of furniture were mismatched. No table looked the same, no chair was straight, but exactly that gave this place its charm. Misfitting stuff for misfits.

Another cyborg rolled to their table. This time it wasn't offering food, but an envelope to Gamora.  
"Please. Open. Immediately. Good. Day." Gamora took the envelope and opened it quickly. A single piece of gilded paper was inside with beautiful handwriting on it.

_Gamora, please come to my office now so that we can talk about the mission ahead.  
Peter, Drax, Rocket and Groot shall attend our meeting as well._

Gamora let that sink in. She had never mentioned any of her team mates...  
"Everything okay?"  
She glanced up and saw a concerned Peter staring at her.  
"Uhm, yes. Yes, everything is good. We have to go now. The Operator is awaiting us."

The bar was conveniently located on the way from the Inn, in which their nightly quarters were, to the house of the lawless, where the Operator was waiting for them. The short walk was done in less than 10 minutes. Street lights, better said single light bulbs and paper lanterns, which gave off a warm light, were marking their way. A stream of people walked past them, some hurrying, some strolling through the streets slowly. There was the occasional bum, asking for money or a drink, and lots of merchants, who offered almost everything for unrealistically low prices. Fast food stalls lingered the way, producing all kinds of yummyness one could ask for. The chefs praised their food by shouting, announcing the lowest prizes of the day and gathering hungry people in front of their stalls, handing out free mini samples. The huts and houses grew smaller and wider apart, blending into the wall of the asteroid they were all build on, eventually leading to the house of the lawless.

The house, actually a massive fortress carved into the main asteroid, had an intimidating look. Dark and towering above everything, it was the biggest building on OP-A-1337. Dog-like creatures patrolled the entry ways, sniffing and sometimes growling at the passer-bys. 

A cyborg was blocking their way, armed with many semi-automatic weapons on its body. It demanded to see proof that they were allowed inside. Gamora produced the note out of her pocket and handed it to the cyborg. With a green laser, it scanned the paper for words, recognizing the handwriting and waving them through: "You. Will. Be. Guided. Please. Wait. Inside. Good. Day."

Entering the fortress was like stepping into another world. From the outside, it didn't look that massive, but standing inside, it almost gave off the expression that this building had no limits. The interior was decorated with blooming flowers in every colour, plants with huge leaves and one wall was even completely transformed into a slowly dripping waterfall, imitating the sound of rain. The wet, dark stone shimmered like a very expensive polished gem. Groot let out a joyful scream, putting his tiny, leafy hands to his cheeks, having the biggest smile ever on his face. The Guardians were exchanging looks, as if saying that this ain't so bad, and were soon approached by yet another cyborg. Peter closed his eyes for a moment and enjoyed the warm feeling, which overcame him when he thought of home.

"Gamora. Please. Follow. Me. The. Operator. Is. Waiting."

They followed the half humanoid machine, which was cruising at a nice walking speed.  
Peter couldn't help it. His calmness switched into excitement by seeing something so familiar. It looked like a forest straight from Earth. He blurted out: "This is awesome! Almost like a ..."  
"Please. No. Talking. Thank. You."  
"Hey, that's not cool. I was just saying that..."  
"Please. No. Talking. Thank. You."  
"I ... urgh", instead of complaining, he just watched Groot, who was carried around by Rocket and equally excited. The tiny tree met Peters eyes and was squeaking, still having a big smile on his face.

A door got in their way. The cyborg turned around and spoke to them: "Please. Wait. Here. Good. Day."  
It circled the little group and went back into the direction they just came from.

Warm, earthy spices hung in the air.  
Peter inspected his surroundings, making sure that no cyborg was near.  
"This is so like a forest! It reminds me of the Earth, where I used to play in the woods. Really awesome!"  
"Yeah, whatever Quill"  
"What? You don't like this, Rocket? No instincts tingling?"  
"The only instinct tingling right now is to grab my gun and shoot you in your knee to take that awful smile away!"  
"Rocket, Peter! Would you please stop?", Gamora hissed at both of them.

With a loud cracking sound, the heavy door in front of them swung open.  
"Please, my dear Guardians, come inside!", came an elderly voice whispering out of the office.

Suddenly, this seemed very wrong to Peter.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dances* Thanks for all the lovely kudos, folks! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronan makes a new friend! :) Well... kinda.  
> He will also see something familiar... which is green by the way.

He had that feeling that someone was always watching him. Controlling his every move. Yet, whenever he looked, no one was there. The Krees mind seemed a bit fragile and horrible scenarios formed in his head while walking into the direction of the food stalls. Behind every door, around every corner could lurk someone who was able to identify him. He had to remind himself more than twice of who he was, and that probably no one could overthrow him here on this damn asteroid. Even in this weak state, Ronans strenght and fighting skills were superior - at least that's what he said. To himself. 

There had been only a few people who had ever seen him without his armor, without his dark mask. And most of those people were dead. Either killed by himself or during the crash of the Dark Aster. From outside, one could only see a tall, blue, male person. His black clothing mingled perfectly into the mass of bandits and outlaws. 

Violet eyes screened the stalls for something to eat. It literally felt as if he hadn't eaten for a year, his body starving and in desperate need of water and nutrients. Most of the food was so foreign to him that he couldn't even pronounce its names. At one stall, he saw something familiar: puffy pies filled with some kind of sweet, fragrant gravy and fruits. The owner of the stall saw the hungry look on Ronans face.

"Hey, you! Yes, you! You actually wanna buy somethin' or are ya jus standing in way of ma payin' customers?"  
Kind of startled, Ronans mouth dropped open. "What?"  
"What what!? You deaf? Buy o get lost!"  
Totally perplex, the Kree glared incredulously at the shop keeper. Eventually, he answered:  
"I would like to acquire one." He pointed at one small, sweet pie.  
The owner grunted, took a - surprisingly - fresh napkin out of a box, slapped the desired piece of pastry on it and handed it over to Ronan.

Before Ronan had left the room, he had looted the corpse and found a dozen coins in a small bag. With no idea of how much one of the pies would cost, he dropped one coin, which stated "1 TOKEN 1", into the big palm of the sweaty owner.  
"Yeh, if ya like me puffies, come back an buy more, if ya don't like it, hope yer chokin'!"  
The Krees violet eyes became a shade darker and without saying one more single word, he walked away.  
After strolling some meters, inhaling the nice smell and taking the first bite, Ronan turned back.

"What yer wanna now, blue boy?"  
Ronans right eye flinched and he really struggled to keep his wits under control to not just kill this piece of galactic waste - as Ronan perceived that guy in his mind - with his bare hands.  
"Be quiet and hand me four more small pies!"  
"Haha, alright boss! Happy customer is returnin' customer."  
He even got a discount.

After devouring the pies, Ronan asked the owner how he could find "the Operator".  
"Geez man, me never saw anyone inhalin' ma puffies as fast as ya! Are you a wizard? Anyway, Operator is jus down the road, yer know. Big ugly buildin', can't miss it."  
With a nod, Ronan thanked the pie maker and took off.

The main street was packed. The shops were besieged by customers and at some points Ronan had to force his way through the crowds by pushing people to the side. Bit by bit, the street got emptier the further he travelled. As soon as the last shop was behind him, there was only one thing in front: the house of the lawless. He had to chuckle. He, Ronan, the Supreme Accuser of the Kree Empire, the personification of law, entering the "house of the lawless". Just because of that handwriting. _Could it be ..._

A cyborg rolled in front of him.  
"Stop. Please. Show. Me. Your. Invitation", it demanded. Ronan grabbed into one of his pockets and prior to handing over the note, he read it again. An uneasy feeling was creeping down his spine. _Could it really be her?_ The humanoid robot scanned the note with a green laser out of its eyes, handed the paper back and rolled aside to grant access to the house.  
"You. Will. Be. Guided. Please. Wait. Inside. Good. Day."

Ronan didn't want to believe his eyes when he entered the house. Was he still on OP-A-1337 or had he just stepped through a wormhole into another dimension? The asteroid cave in front of him was filled with a lush green forest. A weak, piercing pain tugged on one of his hearts... home.

_What does she want?_ Sunken deep into his thoughts, Ronan wasn't aware of the cyborg, which was coming to a halt in front of him.  
"Ronan. Please. Follow. Me. The. Operator. Is. Waiting."  
Startled by hearing his name, he drifted back into reality. He really had to get his anxious flinching under control. That was not acceptable - at all. The cyborg already had started to move, so Ronan broke into a trot, checking the room to see if anyone might had recognised his name. After a few minutes, the robot had guided him to a huge door.

"Please. Wait. Here. Good. Day." 

It circled around him and took off. The door was covered with Kree carvings and while Ronan was deciphering them, it opened. Horrified that the complete sentence was about Exolon black and blood magic, he looked up and saw some guy standing in front of him, facing the other direction, as well as... GAMORA!?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to follow me on [tumblr](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/) and [deviantArt](http://gingerhair.deviantart.com/)! ^_^
> 
> And again, thank you so much for so many hits and kudos <3  
> I even look forward to more comments of you ^.^ weeehee
> 
> Oh and, if my chapters are only funny because of my grammar, please let me know!
> 
> I don't know where my mistakes are.  
> But I will (eventually) find them.  
> And I will kill them.  
> 8D
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> [Happy Valentines Day!](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/post/110885486101/because-tomorrow-is-valentines-day-and-my)  
> If you wanna see something more smutty, just ask nicely :P hehe


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, this is the interwebs and this is a fanfic, so it's totally normal that characters say: "????" and nothing more :D  
> Enjoy this chapter!

The room was square-shaped and entirely made out of dark-gray metal plates. No windows, no furniture, no pictures, no plants. Only polished glossy walls and floor tiles. "The light source is rather romantic", thought Peter. Millions of tiny dots were covering the walls. If they would have moved, one would have thought that the dots were fireflies. Yet, they were only some kind of space mineral, gleaming silently and calming, dimly illuminating the room.

They had just arrived and were asked to gather around the Operator. As Gamora had implied, the Operator was a woman, though no one had expected that she would be so tiny... and old. The lady stated that she would explain the mission to them shortly, after another person would finally "get his ass over here". Peter had to chuckle because the woman looked like a little happy granny, yet had the vocabulary of Rocket. She even was as tall as Rocket. 

Her silvery hair was donned in an old-fashioned bun and her fair skin was as wrinkled as if she had lived hundreds of lifes. She was sitting on her knees on a comfy looking pillow in the center of the room, and sported a deep red kimono. Her eyes were almost closed and her smile was as warm as a summer night. 

Peter asked her: "So, we're not the only ones interested in this job?"  
"You are the only ones who can accomplish this job. Just one asset is missing, to make this round perfect", she answered, nodding in between.

The Operator seemed to be fascinated by Rocket and Groot, when the door suddenly opened. 

"That should be him."

Gamora and Peter turned around and saw a tall, blue guy walking in, focused on the door and almost bouncing into Drax. The man looked up, mustering Drax' back when his eyes finally met Gamoras. That sapphire blue was a familiar skin tone. Also the lavender eyes...

"Oh, HELL NO! DRAX!"

Drax spun around and was confused - who was that? It dawned on him when the other opened his mouth, flashing black teeth at him. Drax immediately tried to attack Ronan with his clenched fist, but the Kree dodged by leaning back and tacking a step sideways.  
"Wowowow shit...", Peter grabbed his sub-machine guns and was aiming at Drax and Ronan, but never got a clear shot. The two were just moving too fast and he didn't dare to fire. If he would stun the strongest member of the Guardians, there wouldn't be any chance left for the others - himself included. Rocket put Groot down and was also joining the fight by snarling and grabbing his gun.

However, Ronan overwhelmed Drax in mere seconds by sheer power and held the Destroyer in a tight grip, like a shield, in front of him. The Kree filled the room with wrathful growling. His stare was so intense that everybody instinctively took a step back, except the Operator. His breathing was hard and his senses and reflexes worked finally at full speed again. The tight grip stopped the blood circulation in Drax' carotid artery, which made him almost pass out, whilst the Kree screened the place, glaring at everyone with freakishly wide eyes... until he spotted her - the little lady, who was sitting on the ground... _smiling_ at him.

"My dear Ronan! Look at you! Come here!", she totally ignored the fact that Ronan was about to kill Drax.  
"????", the Krees face softened and his breathing switched into something weird. A mixture of sucking in air, hyperventilation and letting out a cry. The grip around Drax' neck losened until he fully let go of him. The Destroyer was sacking onto the ground, panting for air. From that moment on, Ronan ignored everyone else. He only focused saucer-eyed on that little lady.

No one could see it from the outside, but the Kree was overwhelmed. It was her. It was really _her_. Should he run? Should he kill the Guardians and then run? No, running was no option. Why is he here? Why are the others here? What is the meaning of all this? 

"Come here, take my hands", the Operator waved him to her. 

Ronan was unsure, but eventually walked over to her and stopped in front of her pillow, sank onto his knees and bent forward so he could take the tiny hands into his big ones. The Kree closed his eyes when she suddenly started to trace his features, his bald head and stroked his cheeks. She chuckled.  
"As handsome as ever, my sweet child."  
A smile was all the Kree answered.  
"It is so good to see you."  
"Only two persons in the whole universe ever said that to me. As I suspected... it is you."  
"Of course it's me! Ronan, I ain't the one who got time for dying!"  
As sassy as ever. Ronan rolled his eyes and sighed.

Drax started to cough and put a hand on his throat, implying that it hurt a little. He sat up and searched for the faces of his team mates. The others stood there, shock frozen. No one dared to move. Not even little Groot was wobbling around. Rocket couldn't stand this mind boggling show any longer and blurted out: 

"What the hell? Why is this nutjob here? He should be fucking dead!" 

Gamora was stunned into silence, though her thoughts were racing as well. Ronan stopped to attack Drax because of that woman? He never did let go any of his victims before! Why did he do that now? Who was she?

"Guardians, please let me explain", the Operator said. "Your mission won't be easy and he", she pointed at Ronan, "is the perfect asset!"  
Ronan eyed her confused.  
"Are you insane? Is this really happening?", Rocket cried out, "Do you even know who he is?"  
"Calm down, sweety. Sure I know who he is. Listen, you all have a lot of questions, yes, and I will answer them, but first lets establish something: no one kills anyone. Not in here. I don't want to scratch off your guts and brains from my walls. Understood? Those stains are just horrible."

Ronan pivoted around, stood up and faced the Guardians. His lips trembled with rage and his gaze jumped between each of them, lingering on Gamora and especially Peter a bit longer, the Terran who had killed him. "What a shame", he spoke to them, "I would enjoy killing you all right now."

Their facial expressions were priceless, especially their dropped jaws. Ronan wouldn't go full accuser because that tiny lady, whom the Kree could probably crush with one hand, said he wasn't allowed to?  
"Okay, guys", started Peter, lifting both hands in defense, "I am not sure if I missed something, but you ... you're eh.. Ronan, or... or not?"  
"Yes", the Kree answered. "And you are dead as soon as you leave this room!"  
The violet eyes screened the Terran as if searching for that one weak spot, which would kill Peter in an instant.  
"Ah, yeah,... haha... it's him. Just got a little confused back there", he retreated slowly into the direction of the exit.

The tiny lady stood up and took a walking stick from under her pillow, which was actually a femur, to support her while walking.  
"Like I just said: I know who this lad is and he ain't killing anyone of you. Not in here, nor outside."  
Ronans face switched from mad-hatter to kid-without-candy when he understood the full consequences of what she just had said indirectly to him:  
"What!? No! You prohibit me from killing them!?"  
"Your ears work so good, Ronan", she pinched the Kree into one calf while she shuffled around his knees into the direction of Drax.  
"Ooohohoo!", Peter had to giggle nervously.  
"You dare to laugh, Terran?", back to mad-hatter it was. Ronan took a few steps towards Quill and came face to face, almost touching noses. His eyes burned into Peters while emitting a fierce hunger for killing, as he spoke with a whispery voice: "You should drop to your knees and thank her for protecting your worthless existence."  
"Calm down, buddy!", Peter, with an uneasy smile, took a step back. "I wasn't making any fun of her! But... I have to be honest.. I don't get it why we are still standing and you not going full maniac?" He searched the eyes of the old lady. "Why can you handle and command him like that? Who are you?"

The Operator walked past the group to reach Drax, who was still sitting on the ground, holding his throat. "Poor Drax! Your windpipe is twisted and bend. Let me help you." A warm, tiny hand was placed on the broad chest of the Destroyer. 

"Try to inhale as deeply as possible now."

The skin around the tiny hand started to glow in red. A painful expression appeared on Drax' face, which went away as quickly as it came - and so did the rattling sound he made while breathing. He gained his normal colour back and let out a relieving sigh.

"Guardians, just to make it clear for a third time now, you don't have to fear any harm. Ronan is here because you will need him to accomplish your task." The Operator adamantly ignored the question about who she was.  
"What do you mean by that?", the Kree wanted to know. "Are you..."  
"Yes, you will work together!", she interrupted while patting Drax on one shoulder. She turned around to look Ronan in the eyes.  
"WHAT? No. No...", he was shaking his head. "You can not demand that from me. These lawless misfits are not worthy of my help."  
"Listen to you! These lawless misfits, as you call them, kicked your sorry ass, Ronan. They killed you and I had to make a deal with the Mistress to get you back. Do you even know how greedy she is? Horrible. Also, darling, don't ever dare to contradict me again! You will help them. End of story. Peter is your captain and you will follow his orders, understood?"

The Kree, somewhat paler, looked totally perplex at Peter, whose expression in return was indescribable - unbelieving, happy, excited, scared to death? They both were at a loss for words, so Peter started to giggle nervously again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Operator is a creation of mine. I hope she's not too Mary-Sue, but I needed someone powerful. She won't play a huge part in the fanfic, but there had to be something or better said someone to whom the Kree would listen to. I also like to play with her character, because she can just pinch that blue guy into his calf and he just lets it happen :D I mean, srsly, just imagine a granny, as tall as Rocket, pinching this blue mountain ... I would also totally pinch him. Most likely into his fluffy cheeks.  
> Anyway... of course I will explain why the Operator can handle Ronan like that and I really hope that you will like that part ^^ 
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and hits and comments *_*  
> When this fanfic hits 1.000 hits there will be something really nice for you ;D Because I like you
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on [tumblr](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/)! ^_^


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sorry kiddos, this chapter doesn't have an illustration, but as I said at the end of the last chapter, there will be something nice when this fanfic has 1.000 hits! :D So hurry up! ;) (maybe not that fast though, the pic isn't finished yet... but almost XD)
> 
> It's very stressful at the moment, so please do not hate me if this chapter has even more grammar errors than the previous ones @.@ I do my best!
> 
> Enjoy this chapter! :)

Gamora finally found her voice again: "Operator, or whoever you are... I betrayed Ronan for a good reason and I will never work wi---"

"Whatever Gamora!", Rocket cut off the green assassin, waving a hand at her to make her shut up. The augmented raccoon approached the Operator, making clear with his body language that he was not interested in making friends.  
"You crazy lady brought Ronan back from the dead? Seriously, what is wrong with you?"  
He tried to grab and shake the Operator, but his paws got hit by the femur every time he reached out for her. After the third attempt, Rocket threw his arms into the air and let out an unbelievable loud and annoyed groan. The Operator just stood there unimpressed.

"NAARGH!! I need to get outta here and BEAT.UP.GRASS!", he ranted and growled.

"Groooo~t!"  
Rocket walked back to the little tree, who was waving his leafy hands up and down, trying to calm down his friends temper with his soothing motions. 

"Groot! Groooot!"  
"No, nothin's good, man!"  
"Groooot~"  
"The others are stupid jackasses! We leave!", Rocket wanted to heave up the bucket, but his paws got hit by the femur again.  
"GODDAMMIT WOMAN! STOP THAT!", he yelped at the Operator, "My paws are very delicate!"  
"You will stay."  
"No, we won't!"  
"Yes, you will."  
"You can't make us!"  
The Operator shrugged with her shoulders and with a very innocent voice she said: " _Ronan can._ "

Rocket pulled his ears back and finally noticed the shadow looming over him. When he turned his head, Ronan was already standing right behind him. The tall, blue man opened and closed his fists slowly, making his muscles flex and grating his knuckles, tracking every movement of the furry animal with his violet eyes.

"What the... okay.. _OKAY_... but tell your pawn to stay away from me!", Rocket gesticulated vigorously, trying to shoo Ronan away. The Kree inclined his head a little to one side. Pawn?  
The Operator had to laugh. Rocket offered quite a funny show.  
"I really like you!", she giggled, "However..."

The tiny lady saw from the corner of her eye that Gamora whispered something into Peters ear.  
"Gamora", she caught the attention of the green assassin.  
"I know why you left Ronan. But don't worry... he isn't like you. Acting all nice and suddenly betraying his team. He obeys. The Kree are a proud folk and protect what they hold dear, even if this means genocide and trying to burn planets to their core. Or whatever. Some might think it's insane, yes, but in the end, the Kree follow their ancient laws. Especially this brat over here", she waved with the femur into Ronans direction, who made a dismissive sound in return.

"Congratulations on that, but we are not interested in this job anymore!", was Gamoras response on the attempt of changing her mind.  
"Oh, you don't have to lie to me, child. I know that you still are."

"I would at least like to know what the terms of the job are", Peter threw in his two cents.  
Gamoras face turned into a 'can't-believe-this-bullshit' expression, asking Peter silently if he had listened to her for the past three minutes. 

Peter interpreted her reaction just a little wrong and spoke further: "I mean, Gamora... be honest. Who the hell would bring _Ronan the Accuser_ back from the dead just to boss him around and ... let him work with his enemies? That job must be the bomb with awesome payment!"  
Peter eyed the Operator and wiggled with his eyebrows, waiting for approval of his thesis.

The tiny woman chuckled: "Terms and payment will be discussed later."

She shuffled back to her pillow, sat down with an 'uff' sound and straightened her kimono:  
"Ronan once gave me a promise, and so did I in return", her face switched back into a warm smile when she looked at the Kree, "Ronan, dear, you still trust me? I would never demand anything of you if I would know that you couldn't accomplish it."

The blue Kree had been silent for a very long time now. He nodded slowly and was trying to avoid eye contact with everyone, when he replied with a trembling voice: "If it truly is your order that I help them, then... I... I..." ~~will obey~~

He somehow couldn't say it.

"I... by Halas name!" Ronan was clearly appalled, dropping his shoulders like a child who didn't get what was wanted.  
"Do you know what you're expecting of me?"  
The Operator just nodded.

Ronan feared that she didn't understand why it was so troubling for him.  
"Gamora first betrayed me", he explained and paced around the little group, "then Thanos summoned me and loaded his frustration and failure of being a good father onto my shoulders", he halted next to Gamora and Peter.

The Krees voice turned more depressed: "This guy distracted me with his seizures", he pointed at Peter, "while some sort of talking animal destroyed my Universal Weapon!"  
"Well, Ronan, I can't undo that, but I am sure you will figure something out on how to get your toy hammer back."  
"Do not mock my weapon of choice, woman!", he suddenly growled and dropped the corners of his mouth, "You're not in a position which allows you to judge the art of Kree weapons."  
"You're right. But, on the other hand, you're not in a position which allows you to deny my commands."

The Kree snorted annoyed and headed to the door, opening and closing his fists as if he needed a valve to release his suppressed hate. He knew that he couldn't chicken out on this. Not if _she_ really demanded it. He should have run.  
Ignoring the Guardians and focussing on the Kree carvings on the door, which were the same Exolon black and blood magic ones as on the other side, he calmed down, tracing the cracks of his native language with his fingers.  
"Do you know how humiliating that felt even in the afterlife? Being defeated by a group of the most unorganized, most society-unfitting outlaws?"

Peter realised at some points how troubled but normal that guy seemed... and that he pouted like a kid... but nevermind. Failure never came easy to anyone, the Terran knew. Especially not to people who had never failed before.

"Booohooo, big blue guy gets beaten up! I am so sick of this here!", Rocket dared to answer. "You're a fanatic maniac, man! What do you think? No one would ever stand up against you? Pah! Get real! You should start beatin' up some grass, too..."

Ronan, still facing the door, dropped the corners of his mouth even lower. He let out a disapproving hiss before he continued his little speech:  
"I don't mind that you, Rocket, as a lower species, don't get it", the Kree spun around, "You Guardians think that I am some sort of monster who is running around murdering people just for the sake of joy! Oh yes, I do enjoy my victims screams..." 

/// "Yeah, okay, maybe not so normal then", thought Peter ///

"... yet I would never kill for my own _pleasure_. I enforce the law and punish those who do not abide."  
Ronan then directed his words at the Operator: "And now I have to team up with those I would punish, work for them, do as they bid, as if I am some sort of outlaw as well? The beloved Guardians are the ones who do not understand the concept of being loyal to your folk, following orders and not having any personal feelings about it, especially not letting them affect your decisions. This one here, Drax, he thinks I murdered his family because I was bored! So, I ask you with deep concern: Do you..."

Drax couldn't take this. He had to interfere with Ronans drivel: "You still declare killing innocent women and children, wiping out entire planets, as enforcing your Kree law?"  
Ronan stared at Drax and snapped: "Never interrupt me again! But to finally put this topic at rest: I never claimed that all of my murderous missions were legit. The only deaths I vouch for are of the ones who performed crimes against the Kree Empire. They truly deserved to die. Destroying your planet, on the other hand, was an order of Thanos, which I executed. Nothing more, nothing less. If you really seek revenge, then go after Thanos."  
"Don't try to load the responsibility of my wifes and daughters death onto someone else. You stood there and _laughed_! You are responsible for it and so it is you who will pay for it."  
"You see?", Ronan looked at the Operator and hoped for support, "They don't understand that I was the weapon."  
The Kree faced Drax again: "Savage... I couldn't care less about you, your pathetic planet and your family. I did what I was told to do...", the Kree leaned forward, having a really wicked expression on his face, "... and seeing you like this, I would do it all over again."  
"You will bleed for this, Accuser!", came the thread from Drax, almost losing his temper.  
"You're challenging me?", growled Ronan, flexing his muscles.  
"RONAN! DRAX!", the Operator hammered onto the ground with the femur, "You are like two annoying brats. Stop it already! You are both neither wrong nor right!"  
"And yet", the Kree lifted his hands and underlined his frustration, "Under these circumstances, you demand that I should work with them and follow their orders? I doubt that they have the foresight and needed leadership abilities... or to begin with the basics: honor and respect."

"My dear", the tiny lady straightened her kimono again, "You would only take orders from Mr Quill. However, this quarrel between you and Drax will never be solved until you both find peace in acceptance. You, Drax, will never get back your beloved ones and you, Ronan, you're still the cunning kid I met some hundred-odd years ago. Stop wasting your energy and be done with it, kiddos. We should finally talk business. Time is money!"

Drax' and Ronans eyes met and both were making sure that the other one got it that this was far from over.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kind support! ^_^ I am always so happy when this ff recieves kudos and comments <3  
> You're the best peeps in the whole universe! :3
> 
> Me on [tumblr](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/) and me on [deviantArt](http://gingerhair.deviantart.com/)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as promised! ^_^
> 
> The fanfic reached 1.000 hits and here is a little ~~blue~~ gray, shiny THANK YOU for you peeps!  
> You're wonderful and I really really really appreciate every comment and kudo *o*
> 
> More pics like this are on their way ;)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will take a while, I guess, because I am super busy at the moment x.x
> 
> There is a bigger version of this pic on my [tumblr](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/)! :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Operator is giving some explanation, but not all of it :D  
> Also Rocket and Ronan are buddies now.  
> And if you don't rage quit and close your browser while reading, you will know what type of mission lies ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, no new illustration, but if you're following me on tumblr, then you know on which picture I am working right now ^.~

"Wait! I finally want to know something!", Peter came forth as if the conflict between the Kree and the Destroyer never happened.   
"Who the hell are you? You just said you met Ronan _hundred_ years ago!?" His eyes were wide, as if he didn't believe that someone might turn that old.

"Geez, you guys are really bugging me with that question."

"Then tell us!", nagged the Terran.

"You are a pain in the ass, Quill, but you are a good lad. Terran curiosity is known throughout the universe. Really sad that your species isn't that advanced yet... Well, well, well... I hope y'all will trust me more and stop asking silly questions, so listen: I am an old entity, much like Death. I might not look like it, due to my shape shifting abilities, but I am very comfortable in saying that Ronan is a novice compared to me... in many fields." - A snort from across the room - "I started to guide him, gave him advice, after his father _died_. This enough now?"  
"So... you're like..."  
"... the only person I am taking orders from", Ronan interfered the conversation, "I can't guarantee that you not _accidentally_ die outside, Star-Lord."  
Peter rose his eyebrows in surprise: "Cool, man! Awesome that you called me Star-Lord, you should just work a bit on your choleric outbursts!"  
Talking to her about him seemed like a bad idea, Peter realised.

The Operator shook her head. It might be harder to get them together than expected. She took the femur again and tapped two times onto the ground. The little light dots turned off. Another tap and a hologram materialized in front of her, showing a map. She hurried, now that she had the full attention.

"This is where you have to go. I assume some of you might know this place." Gamora and Ronan inhaled sharply. "It will sound like a suicide mission, but I am sure that you can accomplish the mission with your combined knowledge and power. I will also help you. Your main target: a golden gauntlet in Thanos' possession."

Ronan started to chuckle until he couldn't suppress it any longer and laughed. He just stood there, one hand in front of his mouth, and laughed, until he really couldn't help it any more and roared so loud that he was almost suffocating by not getting enough air. The Krees complete lack of control was something that Peter hadn't expected. Never. Under whatever circumstances. It was odd to see and hear the Accuser this way. His laugh was deep and throaty, also hysterical and a little bit insane. The typical _MUAHAHAAHA!_ you always hear from the bad guys.

"Incredible that he can smile at all", crossed Peters mind.

"You can't be serious!", Ronan gasped when he finally found his voice again, inhaling as much nitrogen as he could. When he saw the blank expressions on the faces of the Guardians he couldn't decide if they were scared because of the main target or because of the fact that he could laugh. The Operators face was blank as well, indicating that she was as serious as someone could be. He continued, unbelieving: "Oh wait... you are serious? Let me laugh even harder!" 

He had to sit down and lean against a wall, until his breathing normalised. Next thing the Kree had wasn't a laugh attack, but something close to a mental breakdown. Being back alive and directly being forced to work with his enemies to invade his biggest enemies' territory wasn't a piece of cake. His mind already ran like a clockwork to form a plan but in the end he always got a fatal error and the suggestion of his own sane, life-loving mind to just flee. He put one hand against his forehead and sighed. _You have failed me, brain!_

"I don't want this...", he pleaded while desperately trying to blend out everything, now cupping his face with both of his hands.   
"Do you know what Thanos will do to me when he gets a hold off me?"

"Thanos won't catch you. I, or better said Mistress Death, will make sure of it."

"The Mistress? And why should she do that?", he asked surprised and full of doubt.

"Well, lets say that there is this guy she really wants to have in her realm, but that guy was turned immortal by Thanos. They can never be together again so she will come back at the titan with a vengeance. Also, when she brought you back this morning, she must have talked to you? Or told you something?"

"She didn't talk much. Also, I was horrified to see her and in a lot of pain", Ronan leaned against the cooling wall, "But now that you mention it, she said something ... I should remember that I do not belong to Thanos but to her army. The meaning of this is unclear to me."

"Wow, how romantic", teased Rocket, "Did she also say something about a factory warranty? So that we can return you within 14 workdays, just in case if you start to freak out again, you know."

Ronan, very irresolute on how to react to this offense at first, countered, only to see if the wits of the talking animal were indeed so sharp: "I come with a life-long warranty. But how about you? You seem ready for the scrap heap, or would it still be veterinary euthanasia in your case?"

"Nah, brothel would do."

Ronan grinned. Yeah, he could work with that.

The Operator sensed a tiny connection between those two. Probably because they both are dicks.  
She rose her voice: "There you go, Ronan. The Mistress sees you as part of her army, which means that your kill count is high enough for her to notice you. You can see it as a compliment from her side. In that case, you will be safe from Thanos, but not the Guardians." 

Her eyes lingered on each Guardian for a short amount of time. Eventually, the tiny lady continued:  
"That is why you all have to work together! As a team! There is no way that you could go alone and accomplish that mission. You need to trust each other. That is why you, Ronan, only take orders from Peter. Of course you can make your own decisions, but each of the Guardians is a valued team member. Rocket here, he can build almost anything from scratch - let it be a bomb or a flamethrower. Gamora knows her way around that place more than anyone of you and is also a seasoned assassin. Drax is strong and can protect the group together with Groot. I will enhance Groots growth shortly, so he will be fully grown in less than a day. Peter, Star-Lord, is the one who keeps everything together. Don't underestimate his leadership abilities, Ronan. Remember, together they busted your tight ass! Last but not least, the Guardians need you. The golden gauntlet may or may not have Infinity Stones embedded and you are the only one who can wield an Infinity Stone alone, without being torn apart by it."

"Infinity Stone? They will never trust me!", Ronan stated bitterly.

The Kree looked up and met everyones eyes once. No one could stand his violet gaze very long, except Peter.

"Ronan, buddy, I ain't have anything personal against you. Sure, the shit you pulled on Xandar wasn't funny - at all! You're crazy as fuck, but in the end you paid for it. I mean, it sounds as if it might work, especially when we have friggin' death herself on our side - or at least on your side, Ronan. But, Operator... what will happen if we really get this gauntlet, or even an Infinity Stone? And, well, most important, the payment... of course..."

The tiny lady had a warm smile on her face again: "You will bring it to me and then we lock it in a secure place. I will give you a container, where you can keep the gauntlet or stones until you come back to me. Only then you will get paid."

"How much?", Rocket wanted to know.

"As much as you like."

"4 Billion Units."

"I don't care. You can double or even triple that, as long as you bring me the desired item."

Rockets eyes started to shine: "That is a really tempting offer... what do you say, Groot?"

Groot tilted softly from one side to another and was happy to accept. He also wanted to be fully grown again, because another 40 years in this bucket would be really lame.

Ronan still sat on the ground and let out an annoyed groan. It seemed that these idiots would take the deal! He stood up with a swift motion and was standing in front of Gamora. 

"You were forced on me by Thanos", he whispered, "Now, you are forced on me by my patron. I am ordered to work with you and also told not to kill you. However, Gamora, if you dare to betray me twice, I have the law on my side to break my oath."

"Threaten me as much as you want, but you shouldn't feel too confident about yourself, Accuser", returned Gamora with a strong voice, making clear that she wasn't frightened at all. Not after she had seen how submissive Ronan was to the Operator.  
"We two will just keep our distance and as soon as we finish this job, you will never see me again."

The Kree squinched his eyes, not being sure if he wasn't taken seriously or if his power was being questioned, or both. Gamoras face was blank. Her expression never revealed her true feelings and what she had in mind. Nebula, on the other hand, had always been easier to read and to manipulate for him. She happened to be augmented excessively, but her female feelings were never fully erased. That was a weak spot he had always... _enjoyed_ exploiting. 

Ronan scrutinized Gamora a bit longer. He thought about what he actually had lost that day on Xandar. Not only his life and ship - and probably his rank in the Kree Empire - but also Nebula and Gamora. They were next to Korath the only people who had stuck with him for more than just a few months - forced or not. He frowned, shaking away the past: "I hope so."

Drax stepped beside them. He offered his hand. Ronan found this oddly satisfying and acknowledged the gesture by shaking it with a firm grip. This savage seemed to be more reasonable than he had thought at first. Maybe, just maybe, he might give them 5 seconds to run before he would chase after them.

"The Operator is right. I won't get my family back", began Drax, still shaking hands, "But if you try to hurt my new family, the Guardians...", the strength of the grip increased until Drax reached his limit, "I will remove your spine."

The Kree returned the little game Drax was playing: "It seems that I will be fighting next to you, not against you. But if I feel that my well being might be in danger...", Ronan almost broke Drax' hand, "I will crush you first."

Rocket, as clever as he was, didn't want to have any more problems by challenging the Kree. He wanted the money. Therefor they just exchanged accepting nods, while Groot let out a squeak.

Peter, with a big smile on his face, threw one arm around Ronans shoulders and squeezed tightly.   
"Welcome to the team, champ! Oh, and if I understood that correctly, that you got reincarnated today, also Happy Second Birthday!"  
Ronan looked at him totally bewildered. Was that Terran so bold or just world-weary? Touching him and blabbering that nonsense?

Peter let go awkwardly when he realised that Ronan didn't respond as expected.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for all your comments and kudos and views!!  
> And yay for my [tumblr](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ronan the Sasscuser strikes again :D  
> (I also loved "Ronan the Sassy" ... Peter would probably be "Peter the Sissy") xD

They were in the office for approximately another hour. The Operator laid out every detail, like obstacles, where to sneak in, where to attack, where to escape, and they all listened carefully. Gamora and Ronan contributed their knowledge about Thanos and the place, Rocket had some good ideas on how to make sure that the plan would work (which included lots of weaponry he had always wanted to build) and Peter assured that he was the best captain the Milano could have. Drax was bumping his fist into his palm to show his strenght and Groot mimicked the exact same motion - just less intimidating.

The plan was perfect - in theory.

The hardest part for the new assembled team wasn't to understand the instructions the Operator gave them, but how to deal with their fate. The pros definitely out-numbered the cons, but they were still not all too keen on working together.

Ronan couldn't comprehend why the Guardians had accepted the job. They could have walked out of the room.  
Well, okay, he wouldn't have let them. He wouldn't have allowed that these lawless misfits get out there and possibly tell everyone that the Accuser was back in the game. No one should know that. Not yet. Then again, he was relieved that they had accepted, because he wasn't so sure that he would have stayed alive if the Guardians had declined. The Operator had always been unpredictable.

When they finally wanted to leave, the tiny lady suddenly asked Peter and Ronan to stay.

"Peter", Gamora leaned in, talking with a low voice, "I don't trust this situation."

"Nah, don't worry!", Peters naivete was unmatched, "It seems that the lunatic would never mess around in front of the dwarf. We'll meet up at the bar later. Don't eat all the food, I am starving!"

Drax was worried as well: "Shall we wait outside or will you be capable of defending yourself?"

"You know, if nothing works, dancing and singing and clapping my hands might give me enough time to escape."

"Quill, are you sure about that?"

Gamora shook her head in disbelief. How could Peter be so optimistic, stupid _and_ alive at the same time? She knew it was pointless to explain to Drax that the Terran was joking, so she just grabbed the Destroyer by the arm and dragged him into the direction of the door. 

Before the Guardians left, the Operator produced a small flacon out of her kimono. It contained a white, glittering powder. However, as soon as she opened the flacon, the powder reacted with the air and instantely turned into a dark, yet rainbow-shimmering liquid. She dipped a finger in and dribbled a few drops into Groots pot.

"Water him as soon as you can and then as much as you can. It might be best to put him into a shower or bath tub and leave the water running, until he can decide himself if he needs more or not. He will be fully grown tomorrow around this time."  
The flacon disappeared into the folds of the kimono, while the Operator stroked Groot. His cheek started to glow red when she touched him, much like Drax' skin had started to glow, and, as if the little tree knew what actually happened, he made a purring sound, encouraging the lady not to stop.  
She smiled: "What a lovely little fella!"  
Some new leaves were already sprouting and Groot let out an excited and happy scream.  
You could literally watch how gras grew on his tiny shoulders.

A cyborg was waiting behind the massive door, offering to guide the team back to the entry. The group took off while Ronan and Peter stayed behind. Gamora tried to catch Peters eyes one more time, but the Terran was fixed on the Kree, while his mimic revealed slight uneasiness. The door closed and blocked the sight. Her stomach turned. "Too late", the green assassin thought.

~

As soon as the door was closed, Peter took notice of how Ronans whole body language abruptly changed. His muscles relaxed and even his face turned somewhat softer, after his weird eyebrows stopped frowning. The whole tension the Kree had kept up these past hours was gone within seconds. Peter hoped that this was a good sign. He tried to relax as well, but ... nah, his common sense was tingling - screaming better said - that he should stay alerted.

"Thank you for staying, you two. I want to show you something", the Operator tapped with the femur onto the ground and a hatch opened next to her, revealing a secret compartment. It wasn't that big, but the content surprised Ronan. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"My old war mask? Why did you keep it?"

"It has a lot of value, because your DNA is all over it. More importantly though, it holds a lot of memories. Please, Peter, would you be so kind and grab that mask?"

Surprised that he should take it and not Ronan, Peter stepped next to the Operator, knelt down and took the mask out of its spot. Under it was even more stuff lying around, for example a beautifully crafted dervish knife, a few small bottles filled with strange-coloured liquids and some cloth.

The masks shape came close to a helmet, much like his Star-Lord one, but covering more of the cranium instead of the occiput. It was light, grey-black metal with lots of scratches and some parts seemed missing. The Accussers characteristic black paint was smeared on it. Instead of being wet, the paint was hard and crumbled away when being touched. Even the design, with its black lines running down from the visor and pooling around the chin, seemed familiar. They weren't 100% the same smears Ronan had sported on his face whilst attacking Xandar, but surely it was inspired by this mask.  
The eyes of the wearer would be protected by thick, yellow-orange glass and the ears would be covered by discs, which also held an amplifier and a microphone. The inside was covered with soft, black fabric, which would seal perfectly to the head of the wearer.

"Sit down, my dear", the lady pointed to the ground close to her and Peter was more than happy to oblige and finally sit down. After standing for several hours, his leg muscles needed some rest.  
"You have seen just a fraction of what Ronan is capable of. With his old war mask, I would like to introduce you to your new team member in a different way. You will be able to form your own, neutral opinion." She smiled at Peter, whose face was a bit uncertain.

"Err... I... okay? Is that cool for you?", he looked up to Ronan, who was standing right next to him. The Krees arms were crossed in front of his chest and his hips were at Peters eye level. The word _crotch_ crossed the Terrans mind, but when he heard a deep growling he was back in reality: "Do as you are told, _Star-Lord_."

"Uh... well, then... how does this work?", he examined the mask, searching for an on and off button, but this Kree helmet-thing was very different than his own.

"You first align the mask with your jaw and then you press this part against your forehead", Ronan squatted down beside him and pointed at two spots of the rim. The look on his face was stern with a hint of childish-excited, as if he was proud to show off his knowledge.  
_Holy shit_ , did Ronan just spoke to Peter with a normal voice and even _helped_ him?

The Operator explained further: "It might feel a bit tight at first, but it will loosen up. You will be able to see us through the visor the whole time. Don't be scared."

Peter put on the mask as described. It surely was tight as hell! The material sucked onto his face almost painfully, but as soon as it had arranged itself, it loosened up and gave room for air. He saw through orange tainted glass that Ronan was seating himself next to the old lady, crossing his legs and watching curiously. His blue skin seemed black, making him look like a complete different person.

"Why didn't it kill him?", the Kree whispered astounded.

Peter was confused at first but when he finally got it, he just screamed:  
"OH MY GOD! WHAT THE HELL!?", the Terran grabbed the mask and tried to rip it off, but when he pulled, the mask worked against the force and sucked itself back onto his face. "WHAAARGH!!"

"NO!", the Operator sat up and waved with her tiny hands, "Peter! Peter, listen! Calm down! Calm down! It won't kill you!"

The Kree just sat there, held his belly and laughed. This time it was a real joyful laugh. Not so throaty and insane. Plain, oldfashioned amusement. Peter realised that he was made fun of and swore to himself that this would mean revenge. He relaxed visibly and was more than pleased by the Operators action; she punched the Kree with the femur into his side and muttered that he should finally stop with being such an asshole.

Still smirking, Ronan lifted his hands in defense, acting as if he felt threatened by the tiny lady: "I am honest now: the mask will kill you if you don't set up the air supply correctly. It's automatically enriching the air with nitrogen. You, as a Terran, want to change that."

"And how am I doing that!?", Peter started to panic again, "Don't just sit there! Help me!"

Ronan frowned and shook his head, disappointed in how easily his new "commander" was being overwhelmed. Handling stressful situations wasn't a highly developed skill of Peter Quill. The Kree threw a meaningful glare to the tiny lady, who was sitting comfortably on her pillow again. When he saw that she was mad at him and only nodded once with her nose into the direction of the Terran, Ronan rolled his eyes and obeyed the unspoken order.  
"You're sucking the joy out of everything...", mumbled the Kree.

That phrase seemed familiar to Peter, but he couldn't remember who exactly had said that previously.

The Kree squatted next to Peter again and pulled on the Terrans chin so that they were looking into each others faces. Peter swallowed and tried not to move. He felt the Krees other hand turning two small wheels close to his right temple.  
"There. 78% nitrogen, 21% oxygen. The rest will be filtered accordingly to the atmosphere of Terra."

"Thank you. I wouldn't have known the percentages..."

"What?", Ronan asked puzzled and tilted the Terrans head further by moving his chin, examining the war mask while doing so, "Tell me, how is it possible that you're still alive?" 

Peter shrugged his shoulders: "I hear that question quite often, but I ... huh? Wait... what.. what is happening now?"  
The visor faded slowly from yellow-orange to black.

"You will now see something from Ronans past ..." 

Ronan did not let go of Peters chin. His lavender eyes were focused on the Terrans face. Peter hoped that his angst wasn't too obvious, but feeling how strong the Kree was (Ronan easily locked his head with only thumb and index finger) made him nervous. One swift motion to the left or right and his neck would be done.

"... it should give you the insight on how to handle this blue bastard. Enjoy! It's like watching a horror movie!", ended the Operator.

Suddenly, without forewarning, the lavender eyes looked troubled. Very troubled.  
Next moment, Peter had the feeling that he started to fall, as if the ground under him had vanished abruptly. The sensation was so unexpected that it shocked his whole body. He reached out and was desperately holding onto something. A long, dark shadow hovered in front of the masks' visor. Was that Ronan? The Terrans ears started to ring, his stomach turned and the overall feeling he got made him dizzy and sick. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to faint. When he opened them again, he found himself way back in the past ...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit me on [tumblr](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/) ^_^


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay people, this chapter has a lot of feels and headcanons. It is my version of Ronans past and obviously not true in any way.  
> The chapter reveals some new plot details and will show you in which direction I am heading with Ronans character - which will be so OOC it's gonna hurt you. Also, if you're smart, you will know who the Operator really is. In the end, everything is gonna be okay and funny and SMUT is on it's way... 8D I know you ... lol

A bright flash appeared before Peters eyes. After the burning sensation vanished and he was able to focus again, he found himself in a room where most of the interior was made either from plastic or metal. He saw through the perspective of the helmet, as if a camera was mounted to its forehead. The mask was lying sideways on the ground, yet most of the space in front of it could be seen, due to its wide angle of vision.

On the walls were monitors, control panels - flashing red or green - and maps. Tiny dots were moving fast on each map, tracing different objects at the same time. No sound was audible. No other movement to be seen. One wall was a big window, which had a spectacular view of a huge, sand-coloured and stormy planet. Many different kinds of spaceships were visible as well, yet only one drew Peters attention. It looked like the Dark Aster, just bigger and with four bird-like wings and a longer tail, made out of eight engines instead of four. The red marks all over the hull were definitely the same he had seen on the Dark Asters hull. Peter made an educated guess that he was on a spaceship as well. The bad thing: they were all under attack.

The mask got lifted up and Peter felt his stomach turn due to the weird movement. It was as if he was sitting in a rollercoaster. A polished metalframe reflected the person who had lifted the mask: It was a tall, blue man, who was bleeding out of wounds from all over his body. His black combat clothing was ruptured and revealed cuts, bullet shots and oozing burns. The lavender eyes of the man were terrified and he desperately tried to put on the mask. His messy, dark brown mohawk got in between his forehead and the closing mechanism twice, ripping out some of the hair during the procedure. With unsteady hands, the soldier tried to brush the hair away and checked in the frame if someone was behind him. That face was familiar, but so young...

The man jerked his head around, holding his breath and listening - maybe there had been something? ... No. Nothing. He continued, this time more calm and concentrated.  
The third attempt to put on the mask was finally successful. A clicking sound and then the head protection sucked itself to the blue face. Peter was instantly able to hear the fast and shallow breathing, crackings from a broken speaker, beeps from the helmet itself and the deafening alarm signals from the spaceship.

"Father, I have my helmet back!", the blue male spun around. The helmet translated the spoken language with just a short delay. Alarming red notes popped up on the visors inner side, stating that the wearers body was heavily injured, with some broken rips and deep flesh wounds, dehydrated and close to a coma, but also running high on adrenalin, while his two hearts were pumping at 182%.

_Holy crap, is this Ronan?_

"Father!!"', the youngster sprinted to a wounded person, who was leaning in a painful looking, twisted way against a wall next to a closed door. The door wasn't in a good condition either. Bullet shots had pierced through the metal and beams of bright light invaded the room, sprinkling the ground with glowing dots. The other male was huge, at least two heads taller than the young one. 

_They have to be Kree. This must be Ronan and his dad._

The youngster touched the bigger blue man at one shoulder, shaking him violently. A painful grimace was the answer to the rough handling.  
"Uuuurgh... hhhn... this pain... is unbearable! .... Ronan, listen careful now!"

_Fuck. It really is Ronan._

"You... have to get to the bridge and send a message.. to the Supreme Intelligence... that we have been attacked by the Nova Corps!", gasped the dying soldier.

"And then? They are not going to help us! It was a trap! They will let us die here!"

"Will you finally stop questioning our government!? When I die ... you will become Supreme Accuser!"

"No! NEVER! You will not die! I..."

A massive explosion erupted close by, drawing away all sound and air, just to rush through the small space as a fiery ball seconds later. It threw all loose contents across the room, including the two Kree, and almost cracked the outter windows. The two Krees crushed into the wall on the other side, both gasping for air when they simultanously hit the cold, hard metal. Ronan inhaled sharply after the heavy impact, until a new alarm popped up, showing him what had happened in his body: one broken rip had pierced through the right lung... He had to take off the mask for a moment, otherwise he would risk to suffocate on his own, cobalt blue blood. After a good amount of blood was spat out, the mask indicated a total loss of 35%. Ronan forced himself to breathe more controlled. It was as if with every pint of lost blood, the Kree would become a lighter shade of blue. First a deep sapphire blue, now it resembled more the sky of a cold winter morning. His vision got blurry, but he pushed himself further. His father couldn't die now. Not now!

_What!? Are this... are this Ronans... feelings?_

Shaky and pale, the young Kree crouched back to his elder.  
"I... I won't let you die!"

"Ro...naaaah... don't... be a fool! ...", his father panted, "I am done. You will... continue... Xandar..."

Peter heard how sobs filled the mask. The younger Kree was sitting on his knees next to his dying dependant, ringing for air and trying to hold back tears. 

_Oh boy.. oh shit... ooooh, this is awful!!_

Ronans father noted his juniors struggle.  
"Foolish little one...", he lifted one hand as much as he could and Ronan took it into both of his palms. He squeezed it while the visor fogged up completely, his forehead resting on his hands and shoulders low. 'Little one' had switched something deep inside Ronan. His heart rates slowed down, adrenalin was flushed out of his system and no longer being produced, the healing process decreased and the Kree had stopped to hold back his tears, making way for his frightened emotions and death. His low sobs filled the air. He was trembling in every limb, scared that the end was near. Defeated.

_No... Stop it, Ronan! Stop it!_

"... you will be... the Accuser, my heir. Bring justice to those who.. threaten our empire. Xandar... must... burn for this. You can not save me now, but our folk. Ronan... don't let me suffer like... like... your siblings and ... _mother_."

"No! You are the only one I have left!"

A light squeeze of his palms made Ronan look up to the older Kree.  
"Roi... stop being so dependent and finally become a man... stop my suffering and... step into my and... grandfathers footprints. Xandar has to burn..."

Another explosion erupted in a different sector. The shockwave reached their room seconds later, but only some loose tools and a broken monitor rumbled from side to side. Outside were footsteps and mutterings, but the language wasn't Kree. Shouted commands echoed through the hall and one answer came right from the direction of the door, which had been blasted away by the previous explosion.

"Ronan, your brothers and sisters might have been stronger, but they failed so many times...", the older one struggled so much to stay alive, but if he wouldn't say this now, it would be too late forever: "... and now they are all _dead_! But you... you were always the most ambitious. You... you were the only one who made me... _proud_."

Their eyes met. One pair filled with pride and pain, the other filled with tears. He couldn't believe this. All these years he had been fighting for his fathers respect, all these years he had thought that his father pitied him because his siblings always surpassed him ... all these years he had been wrong.

"I know of the movement, Roi, but our government isn't the foe. The Xandarians are..."

Just in time, the ruined door got kicked away as the first three Nova Corps soldiers stormed in, shouting commands and locking targets. 

"... do your duty and... ENFORCE OUR LAW!", was the last order the old Accuser gave to the new one.

The metabolism of the young Kree fired up simultaneously to the alarms in his mask, which were being ignored just as before. Scared emotions made way for the purest of hate:  
"Xandar will burn for this! I will burn it...", whispered the younger Kree, his vision focused again, his blood flow accelerated. He shifted and a gleaming knife became visible in the corner of his left eye. Ronan lifted the blade up and screamed one of the most wrathful, hateful and dooming battlecries Peter had ever heard - realising that this is the exact moment in which he had found his reason to hate the Xandarians so much. Peter knew that the Accuser would be doing everything possible in his days to come to execute the promise he would make to his father now...

**_"I WILL BURN IT TO ITS CORE!"_ **

 

Ronan struck the knife down into the last beating heart of his last family member. He roared so loud that his ears weren't able to hear the final sounds of his father. With a ripping motion, the knife cut through the whole upper body, down till the hip, while Ronan whirled around and faced the attacking soldiers, his body language being of pure insanity. His legs pushed him up and into a sprint. Still screaming, he teared the first Nova soldiers into shreds.

His rage was so fierce that with each kill it grew bigger and bigger. No Nova who entered the room - and those were a lot in the end - escaped his fury. Cries of agony and laughs of despair overwhelmed each soldier, hacking and lacerating them to death. Though Ronan was hit multiple times, nothing could stop him. His visor was red from alarm notes and Peter stopped breathing for a long time. When there was no more movement, Peter allowed himself to sigh.

_Is it over? Please ..._

Ronans breathing was troubled, harsh and raw. Blood dripped from his hands, his clothing, his knife, out of little holes of his mask, making a wet, gurgling noise when the Kree inhaled and exhaled. He stood right in the center of the room, forcing himself to stay upright, yet all he truly wanted was to die. Peter could feel Ronans agony. This pain, this feeling that his body was ready to give up. But all he did was to stare into the direction of the darkest corner... Peter wasn't sure what Ronan was seeing there, until... something moved.

_Oh no. No no no no! Please stop ... please!_

Two women, each maybe two heads shorter than Ronan, became visible. The Accuser started to tense up and growled when they took a step into his direction. One had a black robe with a hood that covered her whole face, but due to the sinful curved body it was clearly a woman. Her hands were only bones. No skin. No flesh. One pointed directly at Ronan.  
The other woman was the complete opposite. She had a beautiful face, fair skin, almost white, and eyes as red as rubies. A shimmering white-silver dress covered her curves, but what was truly fascinating about her was the hair. It was like a display of millions of stars. Like a mirror, it showed the universe they all live in. Waves and curls as dark as ebony reached the ground, highlighted by galaxies and blinking stars. She stepped forth with naked feet, crunching broken glass between her toes. The other woman, letting her hand fall, disappeared into nothingness.

There weren't any living Nova Corps left, so only the two were in the room, separated by dead bodies. The young Kree, his rage building up again, locked his eyes on the new target. Surprisingly, she attacked first. Or... was it an attack? She never touched Ronan. She moved as if dancing around. Ronan tried to hit or kick her, slashing with his knife, but she always dodged like a feather. The strength and endurance of the Kree was remarkable. His body so broken, yet it was moving as if he didn't have a single scratch. However, after countless attempts of striking down the woman, Ronans body eventually gave up due to exhaustion. He fell onto his knees, breathing heavily and sobbing in between.

The lady walked calmly to him and caught him in her arms as he collapsed entirely. Wherever she touched him, his wounds healed immediately. His lungs, his broken rips, his blood loss, everything was set back to normal. Her embrace was warm and balsam for Ronans soul and body. She rested his head on her lap and slowly took off the mask. Peter was still able to see and hear for some seconds. He saw that Ronans face was wet from black tears, which ran down his cheeks, pooling around his chin and mouth and drawing the familiar marks of the accuser on his face.

When Peter heard her voice, he knew who that lady was ...

"Don't be scared. I am here to safe you, my dear."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess a lot of you will get the hints, but in case if not:  
> stuff like "Roi" has it's reasons ;) just google "Roy Walker The Fall"  
> and yeah.. the rest is up to your fantasy  
> if there are so many grammar errors that you wanna throw up, please let me know and I will be more careful next time!
> 
>  
> 
> I love to read your comments, so keep 'em coming <3  
> When this fanfic reaches 100 kudos, there will be a sweet surprise for you again! In form of a picture... 8D uuuh yeah hehehe
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on [tumblr](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/)!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woohoooo! You did it!! ^_^ 100 kudos! YAY!  
> I am super excited about that and I just want to say biiiiiiiiii~g THANK YOU!
> 
> Sadly, the ff will be kind of on hiatus for 30 days, because I am going to Japan and will be back mid-may. If I get some spare time over there, I might be able to finish the next chapter. Of course I gonna upload it then! :)
> 
> I hope you will enjoy this pic. I was in a hurry, but I still put a whola lotta love in there <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/) ^_^


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woho, I found some time to finish this chapter! :) So... here it is! If there are a lot of errors this time, please be gentle, I am posting from my smartphone and it's a pain in the ass to type on it... xD
> 
> And, as always, much much love to you for writing comments and leaving kudos! ^_^ yaay

The mask released its grip and Peter pulled it off carefully, putting it next to him on the ground. He blinked and his eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light. He was shaking, shocked, unable to speak. His heart was pounding fast against his chest while a light stream of tears flowed slowly down his face.

And... there she was... not the old lady, but the beautiful woman with ruby red eyes, right in front of him. Her smile so gracious, so warm, Peter felt that his body relaxed after all what he had seen. His mind still couldn't comprehend what had happened though.

The Accusers head was resting on her lap, his face tilted towards her belly. She caressed him softly, just like a few moments ago, back in the past of the Kree. Peter wasn't sure if Ronan was sleeping, but that guy looked peaceful, inhaling and exhaling softly. His arms and legs were sprawled and sometimes a finger twitched. The Kree had also switched clothing. A hooded, armless vest with thin protectors sewed into the fabric, compression sleeves up to his biceps, pants which got tighter around the tibia and ankles and some less heavier shoes. One detail, which caught Peters eyes, was the dagger, which dangled in its sheath from Ronans hip. Peter recognized that this was the exact same dagger Ronan had used on his father...

"Peter, I hope this experience didn't traumatize you too much?", the lady asked with a mellow low voice.  
"I... oh boy... that was awful!", he smeared the tears away and ruffled through his hair, trying not to look like a complete mess.  
"No, that was how it had to be. The great cosmos always has a reason."  
"Well, if you say so. But... man... now I know why Ronan doesn't like Xandar."  
"Mhmh, yes, that is one reason. The more urgent question right now is, if you have understood how powerful Ronan can be? You have to be able to handle him when he goes mad."  
"Geez, if he ever pulls that shit when I am around... I'll be dead within two seconds. I have no idea!"  
"How did you do it last time? Ronan spoke of some sort of seizures."  
"Seizures!? You mean on Xandar!? Uuh... eh... yeah. You actually call that 'dancing'."

The beautiful face looked confused. She tilted her head to look at the Kree - and twisted his ear. Ronans eyes opened wide as he spun around and pushed himself away, hissing and covering his ear with one hand. He almost bounced into Peter.  
"Why did you do that!?", he demanded to know, whining and still half asleep.  
"Seizures, yeah? Are you serious? ... You got distracted because he started to DANCE?"  
"Dance? No. That was no dancing."  
"Ey, dude!", chimed in Peter, "I challenged you to a dance-off! Of course it was dancing!"

The lady made a hand gesture against her forehead which could only be described as an honest, down-to-earth facepalm.  
"Okay, okay... boys. I may have overestimated Mr. Quills abilities, but nevertheless there are still the other Guardians who can assist you, Peter, if you find yourselves in a critical situation."

"Neither of you have to worry. I have the outbursts under control", assured Ronan, rubbing his ear.  
"Outbursts? Like... _plural_. How many?", asked Quill unbelieving.  
"Yes, I experienced several of them", Ronan shrugged and seated himself properly next to the Terran.

"Tell your new captain about them."

The Kree growled very displeased at the Operators phrasing but answered eventually: "Three times so far." 

It was silent for a long, very awkward moment until Ronan inhaled and gave in, clearly disliking this conversation: "The feeling I get prior to an outburst is always very distinguishable from my normal blood thirst. There is no visible alarming hint for you that I might lose control, unless in an advanced stage, but I am fully aware of it when it blossoms. I could warn you."  
"Aha... great", Peter got nervous as he realized that it would be _his_ job to keep the Krees temper down at all times. "Hope you will warn me! Would really appreciate that, man! ... How does it feel?"  
"As if an almighty force claims possession over my body. Have you ever heard of Exolon?"

Peter just shook his head. He had never heard that word before.

"Urgh...", Ronan rolled his eyes, "Well, have a look at the door. Exolon black and blood magic in its whole beauty. I got in contact with it through Wraith. He's very... _intense_ , even for my standards. The monks of the Dark Aster used a special mix of Exolon parasites and black opium for my war paint. They tried to get my body used to the Exolon. It worked."

Ronan looked up and scratched his chin.  
"However, now that I think of it, I don't know if my body still has this ability or if it got lost. If it's lost, there will never be an outburst again."

"Boy, I opt for the scenario where we will never find out if you still have this... Exolon stuff."  
"Did you just call me 'boy'?", Ronans voice was so low and chilly that Peter new instantely that he had done something wrong.  
"Wh..what? Boy!? No, I.. Jesus, Ronan! As if I would call you boy! Please don't be as literal as Drax! I can't handle two clowns like that!"  
"What is a clown?"  
Peter broke into laughter. Maybe he should stick with Terran words.  
"That's what you are... a big, blue one!"  
Ronan frowned. Getting caught with not knowing something was new for him. Then again, he had never paid much attention to Terra and its inhabitants, except for the Inhumans. 

The Operator was pleased that the conversation between Peter and Ronan went well. Yet she asked Ronan to explain a little further what the outbursts are, so Peter might understand it better and could react faster in case of Year Zero.

Ronan nodded and explained: "I mentioned earlier that I do not kill for my own pleasure. When I am throwing a tantrum, I do not differentiate between what is right and what is wrong. I kill everything that crosses my path, regardless of friend or foe. Taking the last one as example: I sacrificed the Dark Aster, my whole army, just to appease my thirst for blood. Common war tactics meant nothing to me back then. I still had this thought of justice lingering in my mind, but in the end I just wanted to see everyone dead. Imagine if my thought process would have been clear! Reflecting now, I should have taken a small necrocraft... fly to the surface, extinguish all life, fly back... _go home_ ", Ronan shook his head and sighed. The end had been so close.

He continued after a brief pause: "On Xandar, the Infinity Stone fogged my senses. The frenzy was oppressed by the feeling that I had total control due to the gem. It kind of guided and protected me, yet my blood thirst was what kept me moving."  
"I was terrified when I saw you walking out the wrecked Dark Aster. Like a cheap horror movie, man. How was that even physically possible? Weren't you just hit by a spacecraft and crashed unprotected onto the ground?"  
"The Infinity Stone accelerated my healing factor, but during the crash I projected a force field around me with my Universal Weapon, which shielded me from damage. You need bigger guns to bring me down when I have my hammer. Peter, you need to know that my siblings and I are... _were_... the peak of the Kree genetically engineering program. We were bred for the sole purpose of advancing warfare."  
"What the... that sounds awful!", Peter snorted and tried to ignore the nice feeling he got from hearing his name and not 'Terran' out of the Krees mouth. Finally some respect.  
"Why? I never had to ask myself what the meaning of my life is...", Ronan smiled with a hint of sadness.

This was depressing. Peter suddenly didn't know how to feel. On one side, it was Ronan, who had murdered many innocent people like Drax' wife and daughter - to name only two. The warlord had wiped out whole planets and not so long ago he even would have killed Peter, if the Operator hadn't spoken up. On the other side, knowing the Krees background story shed a different light on the person who was sitting next to him. It was understandable but obviously not tolerable why the Kree had done certain things. He wasn't seen as a living, feeling person, only as a weapon. Peter couldn't help it and placed a hand on Ronans shoulder, squeezing lightly. The blue skin was warm and soft, the complete opposite of the character it was holding.

"... it's definitely not killing the whole galaxy, buddy", Peter guaranteed.  
Ronans glance was jumping between the hand on his shoulder, the eyes of the Operator and the eyes of Peter. The Operator was watching them, more and more pleased that the two were getting along well. She nodded to Ronan: "My dear, Star-Lord will take good care of you. Trust in him. Don't be narrow-minded."  
"Yeah, trust me! I am an awesome captain and I won't demand stupid things from you. We're gonna be equal partners. If you don't wanna do things, then that's cool for me. As long as it's not something like... stopping to kill me... or the others. Then you should listen... okay?"

Ronan let the dagger slit back into its sheath, which made a faint rubbing noise.

"HOLY SHIT, you had your dagger ready!??", Peter withdrew his hand and backed up a few inches.  
"You dared to touch me, Terran!"  
"Oh man... okay... you're even pickier to handle than Gamora."  
"Don't compare me with Gamora", growled Ronan.  
"Help!", Peter looked lost at the Operator who had one delicate hand in front of her mouth, giggling into it. Not expecting any support from her, he turned back to Ronan: "I am not going to say one more word!"  
Whilst he watched Ronan, the Krees expression switched - he also broke into laughter. Utterly confused, Peter started to join in with nervous giggles: "Haha, yeah... you guys are so hilarious! Ha..."

Ronan made a dismissive hand gesture and became serious again: "I would never feel threatened by you. Not under these circumstances."  
"That's... err... nice to hear!? What if I feel threatened... is there a word I could say and you would stop?"  
Ronan actually thought about that, meeting the scared view in Peters eyes. The Kree normally was proud when he saw fear in the eyes of the person next to him. Yet he didn't like it that the Terran was so anxious. It was unusual for him, but he had felt this before... _Una_. 

An apologizing undertone swung with Ronans answer: "Not that I could think of. Thank this beautiful lady that she commanded me to follow your orders. You are above me in line of command, which allows me to only attack you when it's considered as self-defense."

Peter wanted to believe and trust the Kree, but knowing that this guy was able to snap his neck with just one hand wasn't helping.

The Operator cleared her throat and spoke to both of them: "Well, I take it that you will make an awesome buddy team. Now, as much as I like to listen and talk to you, I have other burdens to tend to. You can see yourselves out. I hope that I will see you soon - with good news."

They all stood up. It was amazing to see how graceful the Operator was moving. She smoothed her white-silver dress and first tended to Ronan. He towered two heads above her, standing strong like a soldier, and met her gaze. 

She smiled tenderly: "My handsome Kree..." One hand traced the black scar under Ronans eye, which he had gotten in the morning when Mistress Death had hushed away a tear. Her fingers continued to stroke his cheek, whilst he tilted his head to meet her touch. The lady let go off him and turned to Peter, who had just witnessed how gently Ronan could be. 

Peter was only a little taller than the Operator. She also stroked his face tenderly. The Terran didn't know what to expect, so the sensation was overwhelming for him. He had never felt something so soft, so warm, yet invigorating. He felt how her fingers were wandering down his cheek, making his skin tingling as if his vital energy got recharged. When she withdrew her hands and interrupted the fondness, it was as if the light was drawn out of Peters world. "Come back soon."

Clearing his mind, Peter began to stutter: "Ah... Operator... I... I have one last question."  
"Go ahead, dear."  
"Who was that lady dressed in black?"  
The Operator knew exactly to whom Peter was referring to: "That, Peter, was the Mistress."  
"Mistress? You mean... holy moly... you mean Death!?"  
"That is what I am saying."  
"Does that mean that you...you ............"

Ronan, now cleared from the scar under his eye, confirmed Peters unspoken guess: "Yes, Terran, she is _Eternity_."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...the smut isn't far away anymore, ladies and gents 8D
> 
> This chapter holds a lot of headcanons.  
> I really liked the thought that there was more than just some "random Exolon monks" on the Dark Aster. Also... James Gunn mentioned that Ronan was screaming some stuff in a language that only Exolon monks speak (?) when he got ready for hammer time. So I gave his face mask an Exolon meaning :)  
> You should check out Wraith as well! He's a total badass Kree gothic gunslinger dude :D
> 
> Of course that outburst-stuff is made up by me, but I am going to need that later 8D


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, this took me ages and I am really sorry for that!   
> Life threw some lemons. In my face. Followed by a chair. Which also hit me in the face. (no chairs were harmed)  
> Anyway... all good now and I hope I can work on this fanfic again more + more regularly! :D  
> It's just a short chapter, but I wanted to give you at least something!

Outside of the house of the lawless was a chilling breeze cooling off the air. The asteroid chain laid in the shadow of a middle-sized planet, which shielded them from the light of the star dust cloud, transforming the atmosphere into night. Lightbulbs and lampions gave off a warm gleam and were bouncing with the breeze. Some windbells were ringing softly and the passer-bys were murmuring mostly to themselves.

Ronan and Peter walked back the main strip, aiming for the bar. Some shops were already closed, yet others were even more besieged by customers than during noon. The fast food stalls were praising their nightly bargains, composed of the leftovers from the day and days before. Ronan saw, to his disappointment, that the pie maker was closed. A big sign reading "Be Back Bitches Tomorrow" was nailed on the closed shutters. They walked side by side in silence, until Peter couldn't hold it in any longer and blurted out:

"I have no idea how we're going to do this."  
"What exactly do you speak of?"  
"The mission... the living together on my ship! Trying not to die because of unforeseen events caused by Drax or Rocket or you or whoever."  
"I'm aware that this won't be like a pleasant cruise on the Dark Aster..."  
"I guess no cruise was ever pleasant on that ship!", Peter snorted and giggled.

Ronan turned his head and indicated his discontent by dropping the corners of his mouth. He always made this thing with his lower lip, forming his expression into an angry pout.  
"I... uh... sorry. That was inadequate."  
"I have my orders, Terran, but casualties can happen quite fast", mumbled the Kree with an icy voice.  
Peter swallowed and reminded himself who his new best buddy was. If that guy was as literal as Drax, he would have a lot of fun... not. Then again, it seemed that the blue Kree really took his orders serious. Nice.

Ronan saw the blank expression on Peters face and had to chuckle inwardly. He felt as if he needed to answer some unspoken questions:   
"I won't need your or your team mates company. The only things I ask for are access to clean water, food and tools. I examined my dagger and I need to repair it. This will take a while and should keep me busy until we reach Thanos' realm."  
"Your dagger? What's wrong with it?"  
"The blade isn't sharp and some mechanisms inside the hilt are broken."  
"Mechanisms? In a knife?"  
"... I... don't know if that was a serious question, Terran."  
"Yeah! Why would there be any mechanisms in a dagger? What should they do?"  
"Well... this dagger is essentially a small Cosmi-Rod, just with limited effects", Ronan took the blade out of its sheath and wielded it carefully, "I hand-forged it back on Hala when I was still a novice. It can accumulate and shoot small force fields or shock blasts." His voice was strong and proud, as if speaking of a great achievement, yet Peter saw the sadness in Ronans eyes, reminding him of what the Kree had been forced to do with it.

"Could you say that again?", Peter looked puppy-eyed at Ronan.  
"What?", was the short, perplex answer.  
"Cosmi-Rod."

" _Cosmi-Rod?_ ", Ronan came to a halt and secured the blade back in its sheath. Why was the Terran always so confusing? What was this about?

"Yeah, sounds pretty funny when you say that with your deep voice!", Peter joked and continued his walk.  
"Are you making fun of me?", growled a very annoyed Ronan. He grabbed Peter suddenly by the arm and pulled him against his chest. His blue upper lip trembled slightly, showing a black incisor and signalizing that he wasn't in the mood for jokes.

"Woah! Let me go!", Peter was released immediately and hold up his hands, gesticulating his good will. _Ronan really takes his orders serious!_  
"All cool! Jokes on me!", he backed away a few inches and mustered the Kree. If he ever had seen a guy who was utterly lost, it was Ronan in this very moment. Well, if there would be a Lost-And-Confused-Award Ronan would always win, because back on Xandar he had also been extremely lost and confused.  
"Tried to get warm with you, you know? Anyway...", he tucked his arm around Ronans as he felt how his head turned dizzy and started to slowly move again, pushing the Kree along. Today was a day where Peter was bold and challenged his fate massively. His guardian angel was most likely shovelling his grave since the morning.

"I don't know how to act around you but if you keep on touching me, I will ram my dagger down your throat till your belly!", Peter heard Ronan whisper.  
"Yepp", ignoring the thread of the Kree. _If he's not killing me now-_  
"Stop it, Peter!", the Kree yanked his arm free with a swift, forcefull motion and then did ... _nothing._  
Their eyes met. One pair burning with anger, the other totally chilled. 

Peter had learned how to play cool. Yondu and the Ravagers were helpful with developing that set of skill. If it wouldn't be for them, Ronan would definitely see through his show, because, holy shit, he was about to pass out because he was so terrified. And hungry. And thirsty. That blue guy was taller, stronger, faster and more deadly with his goddamned pinky toe than Peter would ever be. But, in the end, he was just like a barking dog. He threatened Peter, yes, but after this little stunt, the Terran knew that Ronan would never dare to kill him. During the course of their stare-down, Ronan realized that Peter had tested him and he bluntly had given away the answer. He lowered his gaze and growled displeased.

"Hey... I... I have to trust you, okay?", Peter spoke lowly, "And you have to trust me..."  
"Trust is earned, not given, Terran."  
Peter smiled, speaking with a teasing yet commanding voice: "Then tell me how I can earn your trust."  
Ronan came closer to Peter, gathering up his wounded ego in the process: "You're going in the right direction. I can see why _she_ chose you." Blue lips formed a mean smirk. "I can also see that your legs are shaking and you're about to faint."  
"Aw shit, I am not!", countered Peter, putting a hand on Ronans shoulder and lightly leaning against the Kree, supporting himself, "Okay okay. Yes, I am. This day is fucking intense. I need a drink."   
" _One_ drink won't solve problems", the Kree awkwardly wrapped an arm around Peter, as if he was wounded and couldn't walk on his own anymore.  
"What's this now?", Peter asked amused.  
"I can't let my supirior faint."  
"Can I command you to carry me?"  
"No."  
"I think I can."  
Ronan rolled his eyes and groaned.  
"No, stop it! You don't have to do that!", Peter laughed and pushed the Kree away when he started to grab him, "I can walk just fine. The weak moment has passed! And the outlook of alcohol is much more appealing than you carrying me around."

The blue face was so calm that Peter could almost hear Ronans inner voice scream and curse. All what the blue guy did was blinking with his eyes. Very slowly, then faster, sometimes a short break in between. Was that morse code? Could have been meaning "fuck you".

"Be honest! You've been a dick to me, too. With that stupid joke you pulled on me with your mask... all the 'killing me with nitrogen' nonsense while getting my face sucked off."  
The Kree laughed: "You know that nitrogen can't kill you just like that? Ah, well, every explanation will be lost on you anyway. Let's continue to the bar."   
"I'm gonna do my research on that!"

A brief pause and Peter stirred the conversation back to its beginning:   
"Those mechanisms in your dagger are broken, you said? I don't know if I have the needed tools on my ship for a weapon like that."  
"It is easier as it seems, Terran. Probably just some burned through circuits."  
"My sub-machine guns are also of Kree origin. They are lagging sometimes, so... maybe you could have a look on them as well?"  
"Sure."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is going to be a bit more difficult, because then you will finally read the whole Ronan headcanon of mine.  
> How "my" version is and so on ... I hope you will like it! :]
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on [tumblr](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear readers, this chapter took me a while, because I think it's the one which will make you either like my fanfic OR hate my fanfic. It has a lot of headcanons, especially for Ronan. As I percieve him, he's 100% a dick, a player and knows that he's sexy as hell (;D) - and he uses that. Manipulating people, using it for his own advantage and so on ... yet he's also somewhat frustrated and needy. I should put "alternate universe" as a tag ... (just realizing that now)
> 
> I put a lot of thoughts into this, reading the chapter over and over again. The characters shouldn't act that much out-of-character, but in some points, well, there was no other option. I hope it will be entertaining for you!
> 
> If you like this chapter, I would really love to read how you feel about "my" Ronan :)

Everything went better than expected. The Kree wasn't a maniac 24/7, which was great, and he could talk with a normal, not death-threatening voice, which was even better. Still, an uncomfortable feeling crawled down Peters spine when they entered the bar.  
"There are the others!", Peter waved at them. His uneasiness spiked his adrenalin. _I literally can't even..._  
The two reached the table where the Guardians were seated at. They had picked a table close to a wall with comfortable, plushy lounge furniture.   
No one dared - or wanted - to speak up first.

Gamora had a troubled look on her face, saying nothing but nodding to both of them. She saw that Peter was so distressed that little drops of sweat had formed on his forehead. He was probably hungry and thirsty as well and not only panicked. The Terran seated himself next to her and reached for her hand under the table. She squeezed it lightly to assure him that she had desensitized the others. Ronan took the free seat next to Drax, having Rocket and Groot around the corner to his right and facing Peter and Gamora. A waitress-cyborg rolled to their table and placed menus in front of the two new guests, asking if they wanted to have any refreshments in a noisy female voice.

Ronan dismissed the menu but placed a highly unexpected order: "Bring me two bottles of your strongest alcohol and... 5 glasses." Peter was too anxious to order food. His belly felt as if it was eating itself but also as if it couldn't hold any food right now. This situation, surrounded by the others, was making him more uncomfortable than being alone with Ronan. He thought that he was capable of handling the blue Kree by now, but what if Drax was making an inappropriate comment and everything escalated? Urgh, he didn't want to think about that. Lost in his thought, he missed the chance to place an order.

The others, still saying nothing but exchanging surprised and concerned looks, where shifting in their seats or buckets. Ronan placed his elbows on the table and his chin behind his two hands, covering his mouth with his index fingers and waiting paitiently for the booze.

A good manageable amount of other bandits and criminals were in the bar, too. They munched the evening away, only making scratching sounds with their cutlery against plates. It was very quiet. Two ladies were drinking and giggling, another group was hunched above maps and discussed a plan, others were sitting alone at a table, comforted by a glass of alcohol and gazing out the window. The planet, which shielded the light from the star dust cloud, had a beautiful rainbow-coloured corona and illuminated the bar with fading sunset colours. The distant stars and galaxies highlighted the nightly sky. It wasn't a true night, but it was still a stark contrast compared to "day hours". 

After what felt like an eternity, the waitress-cyborg returned with two bottles, each carried in one plastic hand. The 5 glasses were stored in the body, which opened with a click. The cyborg placed a glass in front of everyone - except Rocket.  
"Hey, you're serious?", Rocket leaped up and snatched the glass from Groot.  
"Well, I calculated that the tree would not be in need of a glass."  
"I am Groot!", came the answer of the blooming plant giant, who wasn't a giant yet. He was still trapped in his bucket but did grow at least a meter during the last hours. His feet weren't fully separated, so walking was out of the question, being the reason why he was still in the bucket. Soon that would be different though.

The Kree studied the bottles which contained two different liquids. One was clear as water, labelled as "Russian Vodka", the other a deep emerald green, labelled as "Wormwood Absinthe". He had never heard of those before, but the origin was Earth plus the volume was set at 96% and 72%. Terran alcohol was rare but always good. Maybe Peter would like them? He opened the stronger one first and started to pour each one a good measured shot.  
Peter sighed and remembered the hangover from the morning. He was so concerned that he finally had to ask: "Ronan... what the hell are you doing?"  
"Silence!", snapped the Kree as a short answer. After he finished pouring the drinks, he put the bottle down, grabbed his glass, raised it and said: "Drink!"

Rocket found this amusing and lifted his glass as second, cheering and mocking simultaneously: "If you think you can beat me drinking, blue man, you're wrong!" Drax was third and also mocked Ronan: "You don't know what you're up against!" Gamora followed, making it impossible for Peter to drop out. After every pair of eyes had met once, they downed the shots. Everyone grimaced, Ronan and Drax even sticked their tongues out, one black, the other grey.

The Kree was pouring round after round, declaring in between that "this drink is utterly disgusting". The Guardians agreed on that but no one wanted to give up so early. Were they actually playing a game? No one knew for sure. Vodka was soon history - it took them only 10 minutes - and the emerald liquor followed without a break. Neither of them had eaten, so the alcoholic beverage was quickly absorbed by their bodies. They all started to feel light as the booze began to show it's effects. Moods were calming down, finding peace within this situation.

"That one looks like you, Gamora", stated Peter and everyone was cackling. Even Ronan couldn't help it but grin. The smell of the new liquor was quite nice, earthy but crisp, full bodied with hints of anise and fennel. Ronan, still with a steady hand, continued to pour the drinks. This time he first drew in the aroma of the liquid and then decided to not down it with one gulp, but sipping it. The others tried it and came to the same conclusion.  
"This one is more enjoyable", Ronan looked Gamora in the eyes.  
"Most green things are enjoyable if they are handled correctly and being appreciated."  
"I like green", answered the Kree while taking a sip, speaking more with his eyes than with words, "Yet I will always be more drawn to blue."

Gamora cringed just a nanosecond, but that was enough assurance for Ronan that she had gotten his message. The Zen-Whoberis focused on the planet outside the huge glass front, trying not to think of the person Ronan was actually referring to. She never had found any evidence, but Gamora took this as a confession.  
Peter wasn't sure if he imagined things or if there was something going on between those two. He studied their faces carefully. After a while, he saw that the Kree was making a waving hand gesture in his direction. The Terran looked away embarrassed when he realised that he had stared at Ronan for a long time - open mouthed.

"What was that?", asked the Kree.  
"What was what was? I donnu what you mean!", geez, it only took 20 minutes, 5 shots of the clear one and two sips of the emerald liquor, to make his tongue heavy. He startled at the thought that he didn't eat prior to drinking. This is going to be a looong night. At least he still felt pretty good. Very calm even. He didn't care so much anymore that Ronan could massacre everyone in this room like... RIGHT NOW. ... or... NOW! ... ... Now? ... Nah, forget it. Peter gulped down the rest of his anise liquor, shook his whole body, and helped himself to a refill.

Rocket leaned back totally relaxed and asked as casual as possible: "Why are we drinking again?"  
Ronan turned his head to face the augmented raccoon: "It is easier to talk when intoxicated with alcohol. On Hala, we have a saying that only children and drunk Kree speak the truth. I may not be drunk yet, but later you can ask me probably anything without fearing to get slaughtered."  
"Oh, awesome! Can I start now? Like, why the fuck are you not dead?"  
"I have no clue, talking animal. For the real reason, you have to ask the Operator or meet up with Death. Being dead isn't that bad actually."  
Drax had to take this opportunity: "I can help you with being dead, Accuser."  
"Do not call me Accuser", Ronan screened anxiously the bar, checking if someone might have been listening. He revealed through his awkward wanky movements that he wasn't that sober anymore. He raised one finger, pointing at Drax: "I am sitting in a circle with a bunch of jackasses, trying to mess with a titan, in a bar of an outlaw hideaway! I am no more accuser than you are."  
"Yeah, you're right about the jackass part", laughed Rocket and cheered to Ronan, who clinked their glasses. They both took sips.

Rocket continued his survey: "You're the biggest asshole I've ever met during my short lifespan, yet you jump when that tiny lady commands it. Why?"  
"Lets just say that I owe her a lot."  
"Aha. Units or what?"  
"I am not drunk enough for this, vermin. Next round is on you", Ronan lifted his hand, getting the attention of the waitress-cyborg. It cruised to their table, coming to a halt in front of the table. No one of the Guardians had ever heard the Krees native language and when he started to speak it, they were all surprised and listened intensely. The language brought out his deep voice, throaty and harsh. He rolled the 'r' but had no clear pronunciation of single words. It could be best described as Death Metal growling, letting the liquids in their glasses vibrate. The cyborg answered with a clearer pronunciation and took off. They were half an hour into their drinking session. The Vodka slowly messing with their tongues, yet the green fairy was still to come.

"What did you order?", Drax wanted to know.  
"A fine Kree liquor and a hookah with... special herbs from Hala."  
"Ronan, your _intensionsons_... _intensions_ ... are still unclear to me."  
"This all makes as much sense to you as it makes to me", gesticulation reached a new level of intensity, "I don't know the real reason why I am back alive and you don't know why you are sitting here, with me, your former nemesis, at a table. I am stripped of my power, my ship, my rank, yet forced to work with you. I am doing the things I know best: drinking and smoking until I've got something to kill in front of me. That's it. Putting on a show so that every ass in the universe thinks I am some sort of insane maniac", the Kree emptied his glass almost angrily and refilled promptly.  
"You ain't making sense, at all, blue man!", chimed in Rocket.  
"I don't make sense to you because you don't know me", Ronan countered. He played with the refilled liquor in his glass, not knowing if he was doing the right thing. The alcohol had put the inhibition level already so low that he decided to not care anymore: "You want to know a secret, little Rocket? I never wanted to be the Accuser. My brother was the first born but was killed by Xandarians. I was with the resistance movement to overpower the Kree government until my younger sister found out and threatened to tell our father. She never got to that point though, because she and the rest of my siblings were all killed in an ambush on a Kree military camp planet. Then the outpost of my father got attacked by the Nova Corps and... he died as well, leaving me as the new Accuser. I took this burden on my shoulders to have an excuse to destroy Xandar. And, yes, before you ask the _obvious_ : It was revenge I was seeking, but I always had the ancient laws of the true Kree covering me", he chuckled in between, "Which was quite a bonus, so I didn't have to make up stories. However, my primary goal had always been a different one. I wanted to wipe out House Fiyero. They know no shame, ruining the future of the Kree. If I ever go back to Hala, they will be the ones who will suffer first."

"Did you just say that you never wanted to be Accuser?", came the shocked response when Peter had processed what the blue male had just told them, "For not wanting this title, you were pretty good at it."  
"You have to work with what you've got... being the Supreme Accuser of one of the most powerful species in the universe definitely had its advantages. I always exploited it for my own benefits and the resistance movement as best as I could, but when I read the Peace Treaty with Xandar, I realised that the title 'Supreme Accuser' had lost its power. House Fiyero tried to put me on a leash. They all know my past."

"I don't believe you that you were trying to bring down your own government!", ranted Gamora with disbelief.  
Ronan leaned back and snorted: "What? You think you are the only one who can betray others?"

The waitress-cyborg interrupted the conversation, placing a bottle and a hookah on the table. The large, smoking object was made out of red glass with silver and gold ornaments. It was already lit and spread a beautiful sweet tobacco odor through the whole bar. Its four long hoses were encased with soft black velvet.   
The liquor bottle had a big, round belly and a long neck, holding at least 1,5 litre of fine, light blue booze. Ronan grabbed the bottle greedily. He opened it and took in the fumes.  
"Oh, this smells of bad decisions and regret", he poured himself the first shot and asked the others to empty their glasses. They chugged down the remaining green liquor and Peter handed his glass as first to Ronan, followed by Gamora, Rocket and then Drax. "I will warn you once. This drink is not for the light hearted. It is said that it is the reason why the Kree need two hearts", he lifted his glass a little, inviting the Guardians to cheer, "For Hala! You will hate me even more by tomorrow!"  
To his surprise, the Guardians all raised their glasses. They were probably all so stunned from the Vodka and Absinthe that they forgot their quarrels. They emptied their glasses simultaneously and Peter jumped up abruptly, holding his throat.

"HOLY SHIT", he gasped. The others were also making painful noises, "It burns! Oh gosh... oh, I'm gonna die!", the Terran panted like a dog.  
Drax and Rocket hold with one hand their bellies, with the other their mouths, trying not to spit out the liquor. Gamora was fanning fresh air into her face. Ronan threw his head back, laughing deeply from his also burning throat. The laughter echoed through the whole bar, drawing attention to them.   
"This is what inspired me to burn Xandar to its core!", he had to turn his head away from the Guardians. Their faces were just too ridiculous, which he couldn't handle at this moment. When Ronan had recovered himself a bit, he rubbed his eyes and looked at Peter. The Terran made funny noises. They were either due to the pain or the despair for air.  
"That was a real dick move, mate!", cried Peter.  
"Take a pull on the waterpipe. The herbs will soothe the burn in your throat, but it will catapult you as high as you've never been before in your life."

Peter hesitated but eventually his curiosity took over. He grabbed a hose, sucked on the golden end and felt how the hot smoke filled his lungs. The taste was delicious, like a sweet fruit paired with exotic herbs. The composition of the taste and the feeling he got from it was so satisfying that he sucked two more times, until a blue hand reached out for the hose and took it away from him. "Don't shoot yourself so early", came a muffled warning. Peter enjoyed the warm feeling which embraced him like a hug. He sacked into his seat, grinning: "This is amazing." His whole body relaxed and the burning sensation in his throat was no more. Looking around, he saw his beautiful green assassin, who was still avoiding any physical contact with him. The hand squeeze earlier was the first touch they had shared since defeating Ronan. Peter smiled and stroked a loose curl of dark brown hair behind Gamoras ear, who had helped herself to a new shot of the Kree liquor. She withdrew her head and threw an evil glare at him.

Drax, Rocket and Ronan watched curiously while each taking a pull from the hookah. Groot enjoyed his water in silence, not understanding why the others were acting so weird. Ronan mocked: "Things like that work on her sister, but not on her." Gamoras facial expression ditched and revealed how offended she was by that statement. Peters face lightened up and expressed as if someone had just offered him some candy: "Oooh, she has a sister? Is she hot?"  
"Nebula, Terran. I am speaking of Nebula."  
"Oh... I... I remember... Nah. I'm not into that. Also, how would you be able to stroke Nebulas hair back when she hasn't got any?"  
Ronan puffed the just inhaled smoke out, laughing: "You can still caress people even when they don't have hair."  
"Mhmh...", Peters mind drifted to the bald, blue head in front of him... and suddenly came back, "Wait! How do you even know that this ain't working!?"  
"I think every man on the Dark Aster was hitting on the sisters. They were the only two females on my ship which didn't look like an ugly blobb or witch."  
Gamora rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed just by thinking back to this time.  
Ronan continued: "When I passed through the soldiers barracks, I would always hear some mutterings how this or that guy got beaten up by either Gamora or Nebula. The men were also exchanging methods on how to approach them... so hilarious."  
The green assassin chuckled: "They did what?"  
"Yes, one of the lieutenants even offered a good amount of Units to the one who would bring him your underwear."  
"WHAT!?", wide eyes underlined how disgusted Gamora was. Ronan grinned and took a pull on the waterpipe.  
"Is that guy still alive?", wanted Rocket to know.  
"No, I killed him when those news were brought to my attention."  
"Marking your territory, eh?", snickered the augmented raccoon.  
"It was more the thought that, if someone was after Gamoras panties, another might be after Nebulas. And those, Rocket", Ronan leaned in, also snickering, "Were all mine."  
Gamora swallowed. She knew it and now she finally had the affirmation.

Drax was out of the conversation for a long time. He couldn't handle the green fairy, who was sitting next to Gamora. It never moved, yet when he turned his head, it always followed his gaze. The fumes of the hookah chased the fairy more and more away, until it was just a tiny green dot. To his dissatisfaction, when the fairy was gone, the walls started to melt... He tried to focus on the conversation, hearing snippets and blurted out: "I can't imagine that an intelligent being voluntarily stays close to you, Ronan."  
"Drax, do you call yourself stupid?", the group chuckled, except for the Destroyer.

Peter reached for the hose in Ronans hand and got it handed over after the Kree had taken another pull. Studying the blue man sitting across from him, he inhaled deeply. The Krees bearing and expression had changed so much that Peter wasn't sure if it still was the guy who wanted to wipe out an entire planet. He stared at the blue lips, which were forming words his mind didn't care about. The smile and laugh, which revealed black teeth and black tongue, hypnotized him, lulling him deeper into his daydream. As Ronan had pulled him close while they were walking into the direction of the bar, Peter had felt the strenght of the Kree, which made him shiver now. The Kree hadn't been that happy back then, but Peter remembered how cute his upper lip had trembled. And that scent. His blue skin had been warm, his grip firm, but the scent was something he would like to smell again... just closer. The golden mouthpiece stroked his lips and all he could think of was which ones it had touched previously...   
He got fired back into reality after a loud bang. Gamora almost broke her glass by smacking it onto the table. She stood up and furiously walked away. Damn, what had he missed? He looked confused into the round.

"Quill, what's the matter?", Rocket wanted to know when Gamora was out of sight.  
"What? What happened? What did I do?", Peter stuttered.  
"She asked you several times if you want to leave the bar with her. Where you sleeping or what?"  
"Nah, Rocket, I ... this waterpipe... I don't know."  
Peter searched for lavender eyes, which were already locked on him. The blue Kree leaned back, covering half of his mouth with one hand, revealing only to Peter his seductive gaze. Was it the booze or the smoke or had the Kree always been so tempting? Quill might have blinked twice, or started to imagine things, but he could have sworn that Ronan had just bit into his lower lip. The one he was always sliding forwards, which made him look as if he was pouting. A faint tug in Peters groin transformed slowly into desire. Fuck. This ain't good! When the Kree reached out for the hose, their fingers touched for a brief moment.

Ronan scrunched up his eyes and grinned: "Aren't the effects of the herbs mind-opening?" His eyes continued to linger on the Terran, who moved uneasy around on his chair, trying to find comfort in a new seating position.  
"These herbs are excellent, blue man. You always smoke that stuff on Hala?"  
"No. The plant variety is native to my home planet, but it is illegal to consume it. The different parts of the plant have various effects on the body", he was still fixing his gaze upon Peter. "The roots and fruits are best eaten cooked. They are not so strong, but delicious and enhance your perception for beauty. The stalks are eaten raw. They are very spicy, firing up your _blood circulation_ and _senses_. It was used as medicine for a long time, until it got banned. Especially the sense of touch... _intensifies_." Peter swallowed and had to look away for a second. The Kree went on, speaking with a low, humming voice: "The leaves and blossoms are dried and consumed as we do it at the moment", he inhaled through the mouthpiece when Peter was looking again. The Kree blew out the smoke into the Terrans direction with a faint, possessive grin. The hot fumes reached Quills face, touching his skin as if thousand soft kisses were placed all over it. The Krees eyes were half closed, his seductive face encased by slowly hovering white smoke. His vibrant blue skin and sinful lips mesmerized the Terran, the deep voice erecting every single hair on his neck: "They intensify ones deepest desire, pushing you towards what you're yearning for most... Where you thought you had to stop, it shows you that _enough is not the same it was before._ "

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats! You made it to the end!  
> Next chapter will be SMUT 8D *muahahahaha (no joke)
> 
> Don't forget my [tumblr!](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, let's do this 8D  
> I'm not kidding, but this was the first thing I wrote of this fanfic - the smut chapter. Then I was like, okay let's add a plot, and... f*cking 15 chapters later, I made it to the smut! The first draft was very different from the final chapter, though. That's why it took me forever to finish it.
> 
> Hope you will enjoy it! I even drew some stupid pictures for this chapter |D
> 
> WAIT! ONE THING!  
> There are pictures with naked guys further down... so... nsfw!? not-safe-for-mum-standing-behind-you? Don't know... enjoy |D

The small planet creeped slowly along the firmament, still shielding most of the star dust cloud. In a few hours, it would give way for a new day. The streets were empty. Most of the outlaws were somewhere inside, either at the bar drinking, at the casino gambling their lives away, in strip clubs enjoying exotic males and females or, kind of unusual around here, sleeping in their beds. If someone would ask Peter how they had gotten to the hangar and inside the Milano, he wouldn't be able to give a correct answer. He even didn't remember how he had stood up and walked out of the bar!

The Milano was sheltered in the hangar of the Outlaw Post. It didn't matter if it was night or day, huge spotlights flooded the whole place with light all the time. Mechanics were working on ships, cleaning clerks mopped up dripping oil and cyborgs stood guard around the entries. It was hard for Quill to not accidentally set off the alarm of his ship while entering (it was hard as well when he was sober). As drunk and high as he was, he dismissed it as a higher power helping him. In this case, the higher power was Ronan, who had unlocked the ship by hacking and circumventing the alarm.

They hadn't gotten very far inside the ship. When the airlock gate made two clicking sounds behind them, assuring that it was locked, Ronan grabbed for the Terran's hands and shoved him against the closest wall.  
"I think you don't know what you're getting into...", the Kree trapped the Terran between his body and the wall, grabbing the smaller male by the beard and jerking his head to the side, exposing white, soft skin. His blue lips started to trail the muscles of Peter's throat while he simultaneously pushed one leg between the Terran's thighs. Feeling _what_ was pressed against him, Peter closed his eyes and bit his lower lip.

"As long as you're not... trying to rip out my thorax, I'm cool with anything...", he mumbled after a few moments with a hoarse voice. Peter wasn't fighting against Ronan, he rather enjoyed it how he was handled. The Kree's way of defining who was in charge was strong and unyielding. The Terran had lived most of his life in different solar systems and had gotten into contact with the weirdest creatures. He knew his guys and how good he could make them feel, but he had never found a guy who could make _him_ feel that good. From one point on, Peter had always wanted to try out a monstrous strong guy. Not because of a kink, but out of curiosity. Maybe someone taller and stronger, where he would be inferior, could bring him some unknown pleasure? Who else would better fit into that description than a damn Kree warrior?

Low moans were escaping him after a while as black teeth started to bite into his throat and earlobes. The Kree's hand had left the salt-and-pepper beard behind and was now closing firmly around one of Peter's wrists. The other blue hand was roaming up and down the Terran's side, scratching him through his shirt. He would definitely have some marks on his body after this night. A shiver ran through Peter as Ronan found a very nice spot on the side of his lower back, making him jump for lust every time the blue male scratched over that area again. In the end, Ronan used that exact spot to make Peter devotedly hump his leg with slow, begging movements.

Working his way around Peter's throat, Ronan finally started to move his lips closer to the Terran's. The stubbly beard scraped over his blue, soft cheek and smirking lips. When both their mouths were only inches apart, they connected their eyes for a second. One pair was gleaming triumphantly, the other was hungry for what was to come. Their lips touched and Peter broke free of Ronan's grip, slung his arms around broad shoulders and jumped up, closing his legs around the Kree's hips. He knew that Ronan was capable of holding him up like that. Ronan didn't even shift in his position, but used his arms slowly and controlled to arrange the Terran, rubbing him against his groin a few times on purpose. 

"Gods, fuck me already", Peter whispered but didn't dare to fully separate their lips, scared that he would lose this sweet, forbidden falvour.  
"Not here", growled the Kree in response, continuing to kiss mesmerizing soft lips, "Where are your Captain's Quarters?"  
"What?", protested Peter, "Here is enough space!"  
"I said _not here_!", Ronan's grip on the Terran's butt loosened suddenly, making Peter slide down a little.  
"No! Please! I hate to walk with a boner...!"  
Rolling his violet eyes, the Kree heaved up and arranged the smaller one again and started to walk into an undefined direction. Peter looked over his shoulder and guided them through the ship.

After a minute, they stood in front of the captain's sleeping quarters. The door to Peter's room slid open and a hidden chain of light automatically turned on, illuminating the interior cozily. A desk, which was embedded into the wall, was in one corner. Next to it was a partially wooden front, where a media player was mounted in the center. The rest was blank metal, wood, triangle windows and aluminium. Faint light rays from outside gave the mountings a warm gleam, accompanying the hidden lights and creating a snugly atmosphere. What they were actually aiming for, the bed, was located in an alcove to their right. Ronan tugged Peter a little closer to himself and then walked to the unmade bed, trying to throw the smaller one backwards onto it in the end. Peter didn't let go though, making the Kree half falling down with him.

The blue male snickered: "Are you in a hurry?"  
"I could ask you the same, mate!", Peter smirked and let go, moving up the mattress while answering.  
Ronan reared back up and walked to the door, checking on the control panel if it was locked.  
"Is something wrong?"  
"No. Just an old habit", the Kree turned around and strode into the direction of the bed, unzipping his hooded vest while walking, stripping out of it completely and letting it fall onto the ground.

Peter held his breath. Firstly because of the muscles and the radiant sapphire blue skin, and secondly because there was not a single scratch or scar visible. He had thought that a warlord of a Supreme Accuser rank would have at least one or two big scars, heroically received during battle. When he remembered the scenario back in the past of the Kree, where he had been covered with wounds, it would only make sense to him that Ronan had at least one single tiny scar. But... nothing of the sort! There were only some red veins shimmering under the skin. Maybe Death had reincarnated him flawless? Ronan saw the shift in the Terran's expression and had to check if there was something weird on his upper body.  
"You're gorgeous", came a low, flattering whisper from the bed.

The Kree snorted arrogantly, climbed onto the mattress and above Peter, who laid back, drowning in a sea of blue. His pale hands started to explore Ronan's well defined back and shoulders while both their tongues explored the other one's mouth. Even Ronan purred from time to time to show that he liked it what Peter was doing with his hands.

"Sit up, Terran!", requested the taller one as they parted, retreating a little.  
"No. You bend down", was the harsh answer from Peter.  
Ronan's eyes widened: " _What?_ "  
"Bend down!"  
"Are you serious?", the Kree growled in response, giving the Terran one last chance to obey.  
"Yes."

Ronan saw how tiny drops of sweat formed on the Terran's forehead. Peter might have the right to command him on a professional level, but here, in this situation, the smaller one had no power. The Kree yanked Peter effortlessly around, who didn't know what the taller male was about to do to him. They were both lying on their left sides then, Quill in front of Ronan, who had pushed his legs between the Terran's and opened them up like a clamshell. One arm of Peter was trapped beneath his body, unmovable, the other one was pulled back by the Kree. Yet, the thing that terrified Quill most though, was that Ronan's free arm was around his neck while the hand pressed a pillow into his face. He began to shout _'STOP IT'_ and other commands, but the Kree didn't react. Trying to jerk back his head was costing him too much energy and air and in the end the the Kree was just too strong, too overpowering, holding him in a tight, deadly grip, which made escaping impossible.

Peter hated himself at this moment for the sole reason that a stupid joke would cost him his life. The idea of fucking with a monstrous warrior - or maybe with _Ronan the Accuser_ \- was the worst he had had in his life! He heard how Ronan growled angrily into his right ear and as the blackness in front of his eyes turned into true darkness, he stopped to scream and fight back - exhausted but still trembling in every limb. 

A light and sweet feeling creeped back into his black world, mere seconds before he would faint... hot breath stroked his neck, followed by soft lips and kisses. Goosebumps marked the trail of the gentle lips. The pillow had been already moved away a few inches to give way for a little breeze of air, which Peter inhaled greedily. He gasped for the cooling breath of life, noting in the distance that the Kree was shifting, pressing his narrow hips against Peter's buttcheeks. The bulge Peter felt pushed against him was arousing him even more than the fingers which traveled down his belly and into his pants. _That sick bastard_ , he thought, _getting turned on by my struggles!_ The gasping, for air ringing noises he made switched slowly to lustful moaning the more Ronan touched him.

When the Kree felt that Quill had relaxed, he fully let go of the pillow and began to mumble lowly but emphasised certain words: "Outside, I will follow your lead, but here, _my_ word is the law. _Understood?_ If you ever dare to challenge my dominance again, I will teach you how to beg for mercy."  
Ronan released his overall tight grip and sat up a little, withdrawing his hand from Peter's pants to examine the fastening. He fumbled around, trying to open it single-handed while listening to what the Terran had to say. The sound of Peter's voice was broken: "I am sorry, I was just joking!"  
Surprised, Ronan turned his head to meet Peter's eyes. They were red and a little wet. He scrunched up his eyebrows, but didn't bother to answer.

"I am sorry, Ronan! You're fucking scary and strong _and_ the first guy where I would be... be... the..hnn...", Peter became silent because the Kree had managed to open his pants, abruptly pulling them down and almost ripping them apart in the process. Quill tried to help by kicking his shoes and the trousers away, yet Ronan's bodyweight half leaning on top of him made moving kinda hard. Peter shifted more onto his back and then squeezed one arm under Ronan, levering the taller one closer to him. With the other arm, he reached for Ronan's head, pulling the handsome face closer and sealing their lips greedily. The blue ones kissed him back, more calm though and with an apologizing undertone.

Withdrawing from the kiss, Ronan had an answer he wanted to tell Peter: "You could not know tha-"  
Unexpected, he got interrupted by the smaller one, who pushed his hips against his junk and even moved up and down. For the first time, it was Ronan who had to moan. Capturing himself fairly quick though, the Kree growled and shook his head in disbelief.  
"The signals you give me are never the ones I am expecting!", Ronan grabbed for Peter's hips and held them still. "First you're unruly and try to be dominant, then you half cry when I show you what dominance is and now... this? One last time", Ronan spoke through gritted teeth, "You do as I tell you!"  
"Your view of dominance is a little twisted...", objected Quill.  
"No, _twisted_ would be if I would break all your bones and then fuck you", Ronan's eyes started to shine, "You wouldn't be the first one", his voice a threatening whisper in the end.  
Peter swallowed and his eyes widened. He guessed that he wouldn't leave this bed without some proper injuries and not only light scratches. That's what you get when you fuck with a Kree. Injuries.  
"Dominance is that you know what I am capable of, but also know that I would never do that to you. I could crush your skull... right now", Ronan stroked tenderly through Peter's hair, "You know that. You fear it. But you trust me that I will use my superiority to make you feel good, rather than feel bad. And that's what I am going to do. _If_ you obey."  
Peter nodded but was also appalled how the Kree defined dominance: "Please don't break my bones..."  
"Then you better sit up, _right now!_ "

Peter had never sat up that fast. He stared at the Kree, who had also changed his position, sitting across from him.  
"Remove your shirt", Ronan ordered, watching the Terran's every movement. Peter grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head, then crumbled it up and threw it onto the ground, close to the Kree's shirt. Completely naked, he waited for the next command.  
"Turn around."  
"I... but I..."  
"Turn _around!_ "  
Peter closed his eyes and blew out some air, trying to calm his wits. If Ronan would pounce on him, he would have learned his lesson. Never a monstrous warrior again. So he turned around, sat on his knees and looked at the wall, praying that the Kree would stick to his own words and would make him feel good and not bad. The shift in weight on the mattress alerted him and his body tensed up. It was cold in his room, he realized, or was that just cold sweat? Oh gods, maybe he should stop this and... and...  
"Don't fear me", was whispered close to his right ear. Ronan placed his two hands on Peter's shoulders, who twitched a little, and then they traced down Peter's sides, to his bum, then up his sides again. They were warm, stroking him and calming down his mind. A shiver ran through his whole body and he let out a relieving sigh. The Kree put more pressure on his fingers and was kneading the Terran's muscles at some points. It felt as if he was searching for a certain spot. As Ronan switched to scratching and drove his fingers over his lower back, Peter jumped a little again. Ronan had found that spot from earlier again!

The weight shifted again and Peter felt how Ronan was pressing his groin against his bum. The Kree had still his pants on but was making Peter twitch and hump him whenever he scratched over that spot on his lower back. That was definitely not what the Terran had expected. Ronan was really not pushing it but he most certainly enjoyed it - that bulge in his pants got bigger with every dry hump! Could it be... that the Kree could be trusted?

Peter purred and wanted to bend his upper body forward to offer Ronan a little more, yet a blue arm prevented that.  
"No, I want you to lean back."  
Rotating his head, Peter searched for lavender eyes, which, to his surprise, were closed. He leaned back against Ronan's shoulders and also closed his eyes, not knowing what was happening. He jerked them open again when he felt that the hand, attached to the arm which was holding him back, began to stroke his half-standing erection. The other hand, which had been working so nicely on his lower back, was withdrawn and started to travel down, between his buttcheeks. His eyes opened even wider and he gasped in surprise when a single finger was lightly pushed inside him. His own arms were reaching behind him, clasping the Kree.

"Move", growled Ronan, holding both of his hands still.  
Peter swallowed. Ronan had been nice to him so far and not ramming his fingers into him made clear that it probably would stay this way. He overcame his fear and lowered his hips. The pain wasn't as bad as expected, but it wasn't that pleasant either. When he pushed his hips back up, he felt the grip of Ronan's hand around his erection becoming firmer. Oh, that was good. He understood what the Kree tried to do to him. Focussing more on the nice feeling he recieved while moving his hips up made it easier to endure the uncomfortable one when moving down. In the end, he had an overall amazing feeling and as Ronan pushed a third finger into him, the movement down even became his more favourite one. 

Pleased how easy it was to prepare that little Terran, Ronan began to work his fingers on his own. Peter eventually stopped moving and relaxed, letting Ronan do the work. His head was rested against the Kree's shoulders and Ronan could see half of Peter's face. The eyes were almost closed but his soft lips were parted completely, moaning out loud with pleasure when he brought down his fist and moved his fingers inside him. How he would love to shove himself into that pretty little mouth. Maybe next time. _Or..._ As he felt how pre-cum was running between his fingers, he withdrew the ones out of Peter's bum. Fumbling on his pants with one hand, it took him only seconds to open them.

"No! No... don't stop!", Peter clenched his abs and humped into Ronan's fist, not realizing what the other was doing. After that hand was also withdrawn, Peter turned around and saw how Ronan was standing in front of the bed and stripped out of his pants. He bit into his lower lip, because Ronan was definitely hotter than him. He was tall and muscular and his proportions were just too perfect. Not a single hair covered his body, only some red veins disturbed the otherwise perfect sapphire blue.  
"Come here...", the Kree's voice was soft but stern.  
Peter crawled to the end of the bed, where Ronan grabbed his chin and stroked carefully with his thumb through Peter's beard and over his cheek. His finger continued to wander over the Terran's upper and lower lip, who teasingly parted them a little.  
"Show me how much you want it."  
The Terran grinned. Nothing easier as that, because with licking and blowing he actually had a good amount of practice - guys and girls alike. He placed his hands around Ronan's hips and drew them closer. Compared to other dicks he had seen so far, this one was the first which looked remotely like his own. Only the colour - and size - was different. Some red veins started around the scrotum and continued almost to the tip. Peter decided to focus on one and traced it with his tongue. Licking up and down a few times and closing his lips around the tip made Ronan hard pretty quickly. Both hands of the Kree were roaming through his reddish-brown hair, pulling him closer from time to time. Peter looked up and saw how Ronan's gaze had shifted - from controlled to raw desire. He grinned even more and then sucked Ronan's dick completely into his mouth. The grip in his hair instantly became firmer and he heard a low hiss escaping the Kree. He played with his lips and tongue, swallowing hard and moaning together with Ronan, who was suddenly not so silent anymore.

"Didn't you... stutter something like... 'first one' earlier!?"  
At that, Peter retreated a bit and answered: "First one where I would have to spread my legs."  
"Hhnn...", Ronan smiled triumphantly and pushed his hips against Peter's face, "Nice..."  
Peter bit into the shaft, making the Kree jump and growl. He released his lips and snickered: "Careful sweety, I know how to hurt a guy!" To make up for it, he directly inclined his head and sucked eagerly on Ronan's balls. The blue warrior was actually laughing and patted Quill's hair:  
"Sure, _you_ know how to hurt a guy", he snorted arrogantly.  
Peter looked up and met lavender eyes, trying to read them.  
"If you ever bite me there again, I will split your pretty face in two even before you taste my blood."  
Still sucking on Ronan's balls, Peter started to massage his own and the Kree's dick, mumbling between strokes: "You're so... _romantic!_ "  
"Well, and you're the first one to call me that", both were chuckling at that and, very tender and comforting, Ronan stroked Peter behind one ear. It seemed that the Terran slowly understood how the Kree was meaning things.

Leaving the blue male's junk alone, Quill reared up and licked with his tongue over blue abs and darker blue nipples: "Will you finally fuck me!?"  
"Then move to the wall."  
Peter did as he was told and looked at the Kree, who was taking a pillow, propping it up against the wall and then leaning with his back against it.  
"Come here...", Ronan tapped at his groin and indicated to Peter to sit down on him.  
With a swift motion, Peter straddled his legs and sat on top of the Kree. Searching for support, he put his hands on Ronan's shoulders and leaned towards the beautiful face with the softest blue lips.

 

[ ](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/post/123286602601/oooh-its-on-o-the-smut-is-coming-just-some)

 

While he kissed him, he felt how some fingers wandered across his back, first scratching over that sensitive spot, which made him shiver and moan into the kiss, then they wandered down to his bum between his buttcheeks. Two fingers entered him simultaneously, but the Kree's other hand, coming out of knowwhere, scratched directly over his lower back. That combined sensation was so good, that Peter started to rock his hips back and forth, showing the Kree that he was alright.

"I love it that you have that sensitive spot on your back...", mumbled the Kree lowly against Quill's lips, already using three fingers.  
"And I love it... that... you found it", unable to breath properly, Peter rested his forehead against Ronan's shoulder and let the feeling of Ronan's fingers on and in his body completely consume him. He would have never imagined that the Kree would be so kind and tender to him. The start had been bumpy, yes, and he had been terrified, but this... this was absolutely amazing. Monstrous warriors might be worth the trouble!

The lower back was left alone and Peter felt how Ronan started to stroke himself. Some moments later, the other hand retreated as well and Peter sat up a little. His hip got arranged and brought into position.  
"Wait a second!", Peter pleaded and quickly collected some salvia in his mouth, spat it into his hand and rubbed it over the Kree's erection, making it wet and slick. Ronan definitely was becoming restless, too turned on to wait any longer. Trying to relax, Peter arranged his butt and Ronan and slowly sat down. The three fingers of the Kree had him stretched fairly well, but the blue dick was still another league. The blue male reared up and grabbed after Peter's sides, pushing him down completely in one go and making the smaller one gasp in the process. Quill surpressed an angry grunt, but scratched over Ronan's back as a 'thank you, you asshole'. He saw that the Kree was covered in goosebumps and low moans reached his ear when he began to move up and down. The blue lips began to work on his throat again and black teeth nibbled on his muscles and earlobe.

Clasping Peter in a tight grip made the Terran's dick rub against blue abs. The prickle in Peter's lower regions became bearable due to that and soon he moved up and down with ease and ecstasy. Ronan leaned back and let the Terran do the work. Being ridden like that was one of his more favoured positions, solely because he wouldn't have to waste a huge amount of energy. Yet, it would take more than just that to make him come. Though how the Terran moaned... was really turning him on. Krees weren't that vocal normally, making sexual activities in that regard very boring.

Peter leaned back and onto one arm, giving the Kree a nice show on how a Terran likes it to be jacked off. He was sweating and moaning, bringing down his fist fast, sometimes slower, then faster again. His pretty face was becoming even prettier, now that it had this nice red colour and lustful serenity. His breathing was uncontrolled, gasping for air and moaning _his_ name. Ronan groaned and thrusted a little harder whenever the Terran was panting his name, purely enjoying it. He really didn't expect that from this little guy.

When Ronan felt that Quill was close to his release, he interfered and overthrew the Terran, pinning him down between the mattress and his body.  
"No! Ronan! What are you doing!?", whined Peter and tried to push the Kree aside to finish his handjob, "This is too fucking good to be stopped!"  
Grinning sadistically, the blue male answered with a low hum in his voice: "You must have forgotten that it's _me_ you want to pleasure..."  
Grabbing for Quill's arms and spreading them wide let the Terran whimper again: "Noo! Please!"

 

[ ](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/post/123309069031/alright-party-people-8d-today-was-christopher)

 

Ronan used his strength to hover over the Terran and thrust into him without rubbing his stomach over Peter's dick, which drove the smaller one even more crazy. Ronan felt how Peter tried to grab him and drag him closer with his legs, but he wasn't strong enough for that maneuver. The struggles and begging of the Terran turned him on so much that he had to be careful not to lose this little game. He started to sweat as well and his breathing accelerated, which was normally kinda rare. Maybe his body wasn't used to drugs and drinking and fucking in one go anymore? And this Terran... those beautiful lips... He pressed his own against them and invaded the smaller one's mouth. His grip losened and let the arms free, which were instantely slung around him, pulling him closer into a heated, unyielding kiss. No one had ever shown him that he was wanted this much. Heat rolled through his body and he lowered himself down, allowing the Terran's dick to rub against his stomach. Gods was that Terran untamed. Hoarse moaning and his name obediently panted again clouded his mind so much that he joined Quill's ecstasy. His hands wandered down to push the Terran's hips faster and harder against his groin, making him earn louder moans and scratches across his back. His head was next to Peter's throat and as he heard how the smaller one was moaning his name in a long, hoarse manner, feeling that it became sticky on his stomach and tighter around his dick, he bit into the soft flesh with such a force that he was actually tasting blood. He rolled his eyes and thrusted a few more times into his shaking Terran, moaning with each arriving wave of his release.

They were both gasping for air when Ronan rolled down from Peter, coming to a halt directly next to him.  
"Holy shit...", Peter groaned.  
"Mh?", was everything the Kree could produce as an answer.  
"Definitely worth it!", Quill sat up and looked at the Kree, who was already drifting into sleep, "Need a blanket or pillow?"  
"Nah..."  
Peter jumped out of the bed and hushed into the bathroom, which was attached to his quarters. A few minutes later, after he had washed himself and had combed his hair, he came back: "Damn, you bit me! Now I have to wear a scarf or some-" ... and found the Kree curled up on the bed - vast asleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Smut smut in da butt, aka my tumblr](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all still know how Quill's ship looks, because I am really bad at describing the kitchen...
> 
> Anyway, I wanted to thank you all for your ongoing support and comments and kudos! You're all great and I appreciate it that you sacrifice your time to read my fanfic(s) *___*
> 
> I hope you will like this chapter!  
> Let me know x3

" _You're mine... and you will die. Ronan ... ........................ ..... Ronan... ... ..... ...... Ronan_ ..... ........... ........ ... ... Ronan ....... ... .... ... ... Hey Ronan!"

The Kree yanked open his eyes. He was lying curled up on a bed, a hand shaking his shoulder. His mind was whirling around when he turned his head too fast. After the spinning stopped, he opened his eyes again to see Peter leaning over him. The Terran was fully dressed and had a pencil behind one ear.  
"What?"  
"Everything okay? You made weird noises..."  
Lucky for Ronan that his blue skin would never reveal that he blushed sometimes, he mumbled: "Just a... bad dream."  
He sat up, rubbed over one eye and then stretched his back and arms. His clothing was lying neatly folded next to him on the bed. Peter reared back up and walked to his desk in the corner where a lamp was burning.  
"Hope it wasn't too bad."  
Ronan didn't answer. He was too focused on dressing himself. It seemed that his new-old body wasn't used to drugs and alcohol anymore. He only grunted.

Peter, who had seated himself on his chair, swirled around to witness the Kree's struggle. He had to chuckle.  
"Can't handle the hangover?"  
"Oh, will you shut up?", hissed Ronan, what made Peter laugh even more. The Kree slid into his pants and donned his hooded vest. He stood up and walked directly to Peter. An uneasy feeling creeped down Quills spine as the blue warrior towered over him. He stopped laughing and made his best 'please-don't-hurt-me' face. Getting support from the desk and Peter's chair, Ronan intimidated the Terran even more by bending over him a tad further, whispering lowly: "I need water."  
"Sure, buddy. Let's head to the kitchen!", Quill slid out of the chair and beneath Ronan's arms to get out of the uncomfortable situation and hurried to the door: "There is also some food. I will show you around."

They walked together through the spaceship and Peter explained to Ronan where most of the stuff was. The bridge, the sleeping quarters of the others, bathrooms and storage rooms, engine room and lastly the kitchen, where they settled. The kitchen was equipped with an electric cooking place, an oven, running water and a fridge. Lots of unmatching crockery and cutlery was sprawn in, above and beneath shelfs and cupboards. A large aluminium table was in the center of the rectangular room, with two benches on each longer side and two chairs on each end. Opposite the kitchen counter was a muted, big screen broadcasting news from around the Galaxy. Peter poured some water into a glass and handed it to Ronan, who sat down on a bench, facing the screen.

Peter leaned as casual as possible against the kitchen counter: "We have to work out where you will be staying. We have some spare blankets and pillows, but no bed. There is an unused cot in Gamora's-"  
"I will sleep on the floor", interrupted Ronan suddenly when he heard the green assassin's name.  
"Dude, let me finish! .... The cot can be put into another room."  
"I will sleep on the floor. _If_ I sleep at all."  
"But why? You don't have to do that!"  
"Don't let that concern you."  
Peter sighed: "So you sleep on the bathroom floor then? Or what?"  
Ronan rolled his eyes, annoyed by the obstinacy of Peter: "Probably in the cargo hold where I can work on my dagger - in _silence_. It happened to be the tidiest and quitest place while you showed me around."  
"Can't guarantee that I won't accidentally push the cargo-unload button when you act like a dick though", grinned Quill. Ronan sipped his water and let his gaze fly around the kitchen, ignoring the stupid joke of the Terran. He would have killed him three times over by now if he wouldn't be his _commander_.

Peter had a glass of water himself and sat down next to Ronan, straddling his legs over the bench so that his upper body was facing the Kree. He leaned with one arm on the table and mustered his new blue fellow from the side. Ronan looked groggy, sleepy, with half closed eyes and his mind seemed to drift away. He wanted to touch the shimmering blue shoulder, stroke over it, but he didn't dare. Instead he said:  
"You know that I won't let you sleep in the cargo hold, do you?"  
No answer.  
"Listen, how about you get my room and I will arrange something with the others for myself?"  
"Why do you insist that I have a room or a bed? I had worse..."  
"I don't want that you feel like a prisoner or not welcomed here!"  
With that said, Ronan met Peter's eyes.  
"Yeah, listen, you're here because you are ordered to. I don't like it that you somehow don't have a saying in how to live your life."  
"Your Terran logic does not make sense. If _that_ is the reason why you won't let me sleep on the ground, then you are clearly not understanding the meaning of free will."  
"Oh c'mon, Ronan! That's not fair."  
"Your compassion is a kind gesture, but I would like to avoid as much contact with you and your fellow Guardians as possible."  
Peter let his shoulders sink, resigning. Ronan saw the shift in Quill's posture.  
"By no means do I want to make friends on this ship. If this mission is over, and you will ever encounter me again afterwards, you will all die." _So arrogant._

This reaction was clearly not the one Peter had hoped for. Then again, why would Ronan switch his attitude towards the people who had killed him, taken everything from him, because of one lousy night with a Terran? Well, okay, the night hadn't been _that_ lousy, and Quill had tried to be as nice to Ronan as possible, yet seemed to fail to get a hold onto the 'friendly' Kree. Why did he feel so hurt?  
"I understand", he sighed.  
Ronan frowned: "Did you think I would forgive you just because you spread your legs?"

_Ouch, that one really hurt, blue fuckface._

"Well, no", Peter mumbled annoyed and stood up, "I tried to get to know you. There was no ill will intended."  
" _Of course._ "  
"You're hungry?"  
"Huh?", Ronan rotated and studied what the Terran was doing. His passive-aggressive nature seemed to just pass through Quill. He saw that Peter had fetched a pan and put it on the already heating up stove. A box of some ready meal was taken out of the shelf next to the sink and its whole content was promply dumped into a bowl.   
"I bet you're more of a sweet guy, eh?", with that said, Peter reached for a metal container with the word _Zucker_ written on it and added 3 overflowing spoons to the ready meal. Some water transformed the dry mixture into a creamy swirl.

As a warrior and Accuser, Ronan had vast knowledge of many different cuisines - for the sole reason to know what to eat and what not to eat when visiting a planet and odd cultures - but this paste seemed new to him.  
"What is that?"  
"Pancakes."  
Ronan had never heard of pancakes before, but cakes he knew. Though he definitely prefered _pies_. He stood up and joined Quill next to the stove, leaning against the kitchen unit.

"How come that you're this friendly yet still alive?"   
"Oh, you know... the friendly guys don't get hurt."  
"I doubt-"  
"They just get _used_ ", interrupted Peter, showing more of his hurt than intended as he smacked some dough into the sizzling pan, splattering some all around the stove.

Making the connection, Ronan let his shoulders sink. The Terran really tried to be nice to him, but he couldn't... shouldn't... trust him. Though how Peter had been to him... last night. So willing. Slinging his arms around him and kissing him with such a desire that Ronan had to swallow by just thinking back. What had that all been about? Maybe Terrans were so passionately and he was just overthinking it? He mustered Quill as he stood there, in front of the stove, concentrating to not ruin their food. There were small red marks on the side of his neck, making Ronan look away.  
Peter had heaped two more spoonfulls of the runny cream into the pan. Both were silent and listened to the low crackling noises the brown-turning pancakes made. After five were ready and placed on a plate, Ronan cleared his throat and spoke with a low, more soothing voice, breaking this awkward silence:

"I won't use you again."  
"Ronan, in your case, using me is better than the other option, which, as you _just_ stated earlier, would be killing me."  
"..."  
"Let's be honest here... if you wanted me or the others dead, we wouldn't have spent that night together, nor would we have this conversation now. So what is it?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"I mean the thing you're not daring to say. What is it?", Peter emptied the last bit of the dough into the pan, "was I that bad last night?", he giggled.  
"No..."

Peter let out a sigh. The pancakes were done, only one more to go, which was already turning crispy golden-brown in the pan. Taking the bowl, Peter scooped up the rest with his fingers: "Are you scared that I tell the others? And why are you so shy all of a sudden?"  
"I am not shy!", Ronan protested, "it's just ... I told you earlier! I don't know how to behave around you. You're deceptive."  
"Says the genocidal maniac."  
"Careful, Terran..."  
"Yeah whatever, you better sit down or you ain't getting any breakfast."  
With that said, Peter flipped the last pancake out of the skillet. He then took another plate, two forks and the plate full of pancakes to the table and put them down. Rotating around, he stood in front of the Kree, whose expression was his normal pout. _Instead of resting bitch face, Ronan has a resting pout face_ , he thought.  
"You're in my way", pushing Ronan lightly to the side, he reached for a bottle with a red leaf on it. Back at the table, he took three pancakes for himself, leaving five for Ronan, and dumped a ridiculous amout of golden syrup onto them.

Ronan couldn't decide if he was mad at Peter or in awe. Being pushed around normally drove him crazy but... Peter had made him food! Not even his own mother had ever prepared food exclusively just for him. Gods that Terran would be his doom. He sat down next to Peter, who was already into his second pancake. With no idea on how to eat those things, Ronan imitated Quill and poured some syrup over them. The first bite he took, blew his mind away.  
"You like 'em?"  
"They are delicious."  
"Aw. I knew you would be a sweet tooth", Peter stroked gently over Ronan's back. He couldn't withhold. "I am gonna come and visit you in your cargo-hold", the Terran smirked.  
Ronan chuckled and as if he inhaled the food, he already finished the third pancake: "Only if you bring me more of these."  
"You can eat them from my naked body."  
"That's gross..."  
Peter laughed at the notion and Ronan's reaction. Sliding towards his blue teammate, he dipped a finger into the golden syrup on his plate and proceeded to touch the Kree's lower lip with his sticky finger. Planting a few soft kisses on Ronan's lips and licking and nibbling teasingly removed the syrup slowly.

"I really would like to repeat last night", Peter whispered into the kiss.  
"Mmmh", Ronan parted and this time it was him who pushed the other lightly to the side. He licked his lips: "You _may_ have noticed that I am very loyal and extremely possessive. I don't believe that you know what you're getting into."  
"It's just to pass some time, dude! Nothing serious! Don't you think that might be fun?"  
"No. That's not a desireable option for a Kree."  
"Urgh", Peter propped his forehead against Ronan's shoulders, "why am I always getting the conservative ones?"  
"Well", Ronan continued between the last bites of his pancake, "I could make an exception, _if_ you do me a little favour."  
"What? Killing Drax?"  
"Oh, no, no one takes that from me. It's more to prevent a death. My death to be precise."  
Peter giggled nervously: "Of course! It's not as if everyone wanted you dead. I can handle those few millions..."  
"No, Peter. I am sure that _she_ is going to kill me off."  
"She?", Peter frowned, not convinced that he fully understood what Ronan meant, "as in the Operator?"  
"Yes."  
"But she just brought you back from the dead!? Why would she kill you then?"  
"How she talked about Mistress Death and that I am part of her 'army'... the Operator is eternity, Peter. She is life. She doesn't want to have a guy around who is destroying her work. She will do something when this mission is over, because, in the end, we all know that life is a bitch."  
"Say that again."  
"What?"  
"Bitch."  
" _Bitch?_ ... Should I also repeat _Cosmi-Rod_?"  
Peter grinned sheepishly: "Oh you..."  
"However... we might keep her at bay with an Infinity Stone. We both were able to hold one for some moments. I will need you so I can defend myself if she does attack."

Peter leaned back and thought about what the Kree was saying. It could work. The Infinity Stones are super rad and magic. But... hell, fighting eternity? Fighting life? How is that supposed to work? Then again, Ronan knows her and if Peter wasn't that wrong, the Operator had said that she made a promise to him... and... ah, whatever:  
"Alright, buddy! After all, you're offically a member of the Guardians. We're all watching out for each other."

Ronan had the faintest of smiles and stroked carefully through the Terran's reddish-brown hair: "That is one rule the Kree live by... watching out for each other."  
"Was she causing your bad dream last night?"  
A slow nod was all the blue warrior answered.  
Peter still had his hand placed on the lower back of Ronan and made use of it by drawing the Kree into a hug.   
"Aw, come here... ......... we've got you covered..."  
"If the others ever get to know what we're doing, I will neuter you myself."  
"Ha! Never! As if I would jeopardize lots of awesome banging with you", Quill grinned from ear to ear.

"That sounds really wrong... I would be a prostitute... ................ .... Now that I think of it ..."

"Buddy, too late now! Way too late!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STRIPPER LEE PACE
> 
> *runs away*
> 
> ..  
> *comes back*  
> Thanks for reading the chapter ^///^  
> *runs away again
> 
> [You can find me on tumblr!](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a friend of mine told me that I was always setting the punctuation marks wrong. Like.. all of them. Especially with every direct speech. I'm sorry for that, but I put the punctuation marks like I am used to from German x'D I hope you won't mind if I continue with that. It's already hard enough to get the words right XD

It was quiet inside the Milano. Only a low hum echoed through the ship, emanated by a small generator. Hidden chains of light were illuminating the kitchen ceiling, hallways and rooms. Making it peaceful and thus their hangover less fatal.

The rest of the crew wasn't around. No one was talking, no one was there, only Peter and Ronan. Pure serenity. Maybe Gamora and the others were still in their hotel rooms? They would probably show up soon. They had learned that, if Peter didn't come "home" from a bar, he was most likely to be found in his _home_ \- the Milano.

Some shouts from cleaning clerks from outside disturbed the silence. Peter didn't remember that he had commissioned a cleaning, but, well, a clean ship might last longer. He would ask the others to split the cost. Soon shadows were hovering in front of the darkened bullglasses and screeches and rubs indicated that the Milano was receiving a nice wash.

He and Ronan were still sitting in the kitchen, leaning against each other and drinking sweet tea. Peter liked the outcome of the night and the morning. Sure, he somehow would have to fight against Eternity if things would go down shit creek. Yet the thought of having Ronan somewhat _tamed_ pushed the bad thoughts away. The deal was putting him into a good position. After all, Eternity had established him as the commander plus the Kree was now relying on him - if said Eternity would try to end the Accuser's life. All of this made it easier for Peter to give out orders to Ronan. Sure, he had given out orders before, to the Guardians. But they were more on his own level. The Kree, on the other hand, was so freakishly strong, that Peter couldn't help but feel like a small light next to him.

 _Ronan is a born warrior and leader, that's for sure,_ Peter thought, _but he only got into the highest ranks by following orders,_ he tried to assure himself. _He can deal with it._

Having a past with ruining friendships and relationships, Peter wanted to take a step back. Well, banging would be a must - he just had convinced Ronan! - but maybe poking around in the Kree's past and trying to get to know him should become subsidiary? He understood that Ronan would still love to kill everyone of them, but ... _damn_ , he really had enjoyed last night. Having male lovers was definitely a common ground of them, but, wow, how had Ronan been able to find that sensitive spot on his back? Not even Peter had known that he is so sensitive there! How the Kree had pinned him down with ease ... and..

 _Fuck_ , Peter noted how his thoughts were turning his pants tight. To fend off any awkward situations, he flexed his leg muscles and cleared his throat:

"Ey... I need your answer!", he bumped his elbow into Ronan's side, "Something came to my mind when we were at the bar yesterday, getting all drunk and high."  
"And what might that be?", Ronan rolled his eyes and then frowned when he saw that Peter's cheeks were flushed. _Why is he blushing!?_  
Peter slid forward and came really close to the blue face.

"You were fucking high when you were all like _hammertime_ on Xandar, weren't you?", Peter smirked.  
Caught off guard, that was not the question the Kree had expected. He tried to keep a neutral pokerface, but Peter's giggles bewildered him so much that his expression ditched into a sly smile.  
"You were way too much distracted by my dance! Be honest, man!"  
Ronan covered his mouth with his index finger, trying to hide his smile. He got lightly punched against his shoulder for that.

"Yes, Terran, I was!", Ronan spoke as calm as possible and dodged a little away. "Your unchoreographed dance creeped me out!"  
Peter threw his head back, laughing out loud: "YEAH! YEEES! I knew it!! Rocket: owned!"

Ronan’s expression went quizzical. The Terran owned the talking animal now?

"Did you smoke the same stuff we had yesterday?"  
"No, it was a different one. One that soothes your spirits. It was also mixed into my black face paint. With that, I tried to calm my wits. Especially my bloodlust", Ronan tried to defend his actions, "It worked for a while but the stone flushed out the intoxicants quite fast."  
"Your face was still priceless though. That got burned right into my memory", Peter gesticulated with his finger against his forehead.  
Ronan snickered on the thought on how lost and stupid he must have looked.  
"When you started to dance...", the Kree continued, "I was terrified. I thought I was tripping so hard, that I really asked myself if I was awake and had my pants on."

A roaring laughter echoed through the whole ship. _That guy is nuts_ , was Quill's conclusion. Talking about the last minutes of his life in such a hilarious, monotone voice must be a clear sign of insanity. The Terran's eyes filled up with tears of joy. He couldn't help it but laugh directly into Ronan's unimpressed face. He knew how it felt to be high and then getting surprised by something totally unexpected.  
"Oh boy! This is fantastic!", Peter found his control again, panting for air and smearing the few tears away, "But I assure you that this will never happen again."  
"If it happens again, I will answer with a traditional Accuser Corps dance."  
"Ohohoho!", Quill snorted, "... Wait! What!? You _can_ dance?"  
"I thought your species knows the meaning of sarcasm?", Ronan shook his head, "However, the novices call it dance, because you have to be so fleet-footed and fast at killing your enemies that it might be mistaken as dancing."  
"Gosh, Ronan...", the Terran rolled his eyes and facepalmed.  
"What?"  
"Do you have anything else besides killing that brings you Kree joy?"  
"Sure. The working class has access to a lot of recreational activities."  
A short pause. Quill looked expectantly at the Kree: "... such as?"  
"I don't know. There is a whole branch of government called _Parks and Recreation_. The Accuser Corps aren't working together with that branch, but I went in there once or twice. Now that I think of it, one guy reminds me of you. He's pink as you, but fatter."  
"I'm flattered!"  
Ronan only shrugged his shoulders.

Their focus shifted to the muted TV screen where intergalactic news were broadcasted. Nothing special was shown, but when the next report came into view, Ronan tensed up. The news were about the Kree Empire: 'New Supreme Accuser elected'. A portrait of a male Kree was shown. The blue colour of the skin was similar to Ronan's, yet not so radiant. The eyes were a poisonous green, the hair a chestnut red-brown. Peter saw how Ronan's whole body language had changed in an instant, from relaxed to outraged.  
The Terran swallowed and dared to speak with a low voice: "You know that guy?"  
"He and his family are the scum of the Kree nobles", Ronan growled, grinding his teeth, "His father never fought, but paid others to do the dirty work. They scrounged their way through the Upper Class, made a lot of important friends and now... this! _Elected!_ How humiliating for the Accusers of the past that this rat got _elected_!"

The cup in Ronan's hand couldn't stand against the Kree's rage and shattered. Lukewarm tea mingled with a few drops of dark blue blood and dripped from the table onto the floor.  
"What's wrong with being elected?", Peter stood up in slow motion, scared that every rushed movement would make Ronan explode. He then scurried to the kitchen counter, ripped three pieces of paper from a roll and got tweezers out of one cupboard.

"A Supreme Accuser gets chosen through battle, by his combat experience, his wisdom and of course his loyalty to the Kree Empire", explained Ronan.  
Violet eyes were staring onto the screen, grossed out by the ugly visage. The Kree flinched when Peter touched his injured hand. The Terran had collected the broken pieces of porcelain around the blue hand and wiped away some of the water and blood.  
"All good. I will just remove the splinters", Peter tried to keep the conversation going. He spread Ronan's fingers carefully so he could reach the broken pieces. "How do you know that a Kree is qualified in all the fields then?"  
With steady fingers, Quill pulled out each splinter cautiously and dropped them onto the soggy paper, which was lying next to the big blue palm.

"You have to pass and survive numerous tests", Ronan loosened up, "If a candidate fails only one, he or she is out. If that happens, most of them kill themselves. Which, by the way, is even more embarrassing for their families."  
"But weren't you kind of elected as well? By your father?"  
Ronan dismissed that assumption immediately: "In the event of his death, the burden of being the Supreme Accuser passed onto me, yes. Yet I still had to absolve all of the tests."  
"I take it that you passed, ey?", teased Peter.  
"Of course! Flawless even", the Kree flexed his hand when all of the splinters were out, "Thank you."  
"No worries, mate", Quill pressed the last fresh paper into the still bleeding palm of Ronan. "Squeeze it, I will get some antiseptic ointment."  
He got up and held the tweezers under running water to clean them a little before putting them back into the cupboard. A sharp breath came suddenly from the Kree's direction. Peter spun around and saw that Ronan had stood up, staring aghast at the screen.

Another face was displayed. It was a male Kree again, but this time with light blue skin, amber eyes and weird tattoos. One stripe was vertically on his chin, others were on the sides of his head, spiking up and flowing into a messy mohawk. Peter increased the sound via a console, which was embedded in the kitchen table, so they were able to hear what was going on:

_"... their law, he has to be executed. Evidence where the deputy of the late Supreme Accuser Ronan might hide is sought after by the Kree government and will be highly remunerated if it leads to his capture. Coming up now: Another breaking news from deep within the Milky Way..."_

Peter muted the TV and tried to understand Ronan's expression. Was that... fear?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter :3  
> There will be some OCs of mine coming into action. The first one was kinda introduced here... no love interests though. This is and will be strictly StarAccuser
> 
> [Don't forget to follow me on tumblr!](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/)


	19. Chapter 19

The main street was packed. High noon brought out all sorts of creatures onto the winding paths of the hideaway. Vendors and craftsmen were shouting the prices of their new items into the air, trying to overpower each others voices. There was a strong, cold wind sizzling like electricity around the huts. Some lampions were broken and hung loosely from their fixtures, dangling with each gust against each other and tinkling softly. Although there were no real seasons at the Post, through different star constellations waves of heat and cold started to move and eventually collided, forming winds and storms, just as it was happening this day. The planet, which shielded the asteroids from the light of the star dust cloud during the night, was now brightly illuminated, almost acting as a sun with no warmth.

Ronan and Peter couldn't care less about all of that. They squeezed through the masses as quickly as possible.

"Yo, man! Where are we going?" shouted the Terran to the blue warrior who was dragging him along like a rag doll.

No answer, but eventually he ended up in front of a stall with sweet smelling pastries.

"Oooooh, blue man! Yer wereing so pleased by me pies that you come back again? Good good!"

"I require your help."

"And pie! How many?"

"I need you to tell me where I can find a call center or any other place where I can set off a message."

"Pies. How many?" was the stubborn answer of the pie maker to Ronan's inquiry.

"I take one," commented Peter, swooning over the sweet fragrance and totally missing the point.

"Your blue friend none?" the pie maker grunted and turned. The fat chef took a fresh napkin, slapped a small pie onto it and handed it to Peter.

"Oh droooool! This smells amazing. You're paying, buddy!" Quill took a big bite and started to groan when he tasted the warm deliciousness. "Hell yeah."

Ronan had his eyes closed and tried to not kill both of them.  
"How many should I take, pie maker?" the Kree switched his tactic, being too impatient to play games and risk any more delay.

"Five."

"Make it six. And please provide the address."

They exchanged freshly baked pies, tokens and needed information and as soon as the business was done, Ronan pushed Peter into the named direction. The crowd ceased away and opened up to more space the more they moved away from the center. The asteroids surface was nowhere the same. In some parts it resembled a white sand beach, other places looked like the moon, and the winding ways they were following now were more like a trail in the mountains. Peter's face was into the second pie, one with a heavenly custard cream, when they passed a bum. The small, skinny man was sitting on the ground, shaking from the cold wind and asking each passersby for money or food. Ronan saw the begging man and dropped the bag with the remaining pies without a word in front of him as they rushed past.

"Huh? You don't want one?" Peter asked astounded by the kind gesture.

"No! We have to hurry, Terran!"

Peter gobbled down the rest of his second breakfast and had to break into a jog to keep up with the Kree's grand strides. In the end, Ronan was jogging and Quill was running. _Holy shit, man. I hope you can accumulate that stamina elsewhere, too!_

A wooden hut with a huge satellite dish became visible after they had followed the uphill street for a couple of miles. It was half build into the asteroid wall and a sign stated "RADIO Enclave". The cold wind was even fiercer up here. The rolling hills and asteroids looked beautiful in front of an upcoming storm front.

Ronan was screening the walls for an entrance but could neither find a door nor a window. He paced nervously to the other side and rappled against a brown timber beam, which was marked by a big red X. He hoped someone would answer. To his surprise, a little hidden window opened almost instantly, revealing a pair of eyes. One was milky blue, the other a hazel brown.

"Who's disturbing?"

"I am in need of transmitting a message."

"Yeh, most of the people who come here want to send a message, smart ass. Both of you, tell me your names."

Stunned by how _friendly_ everyone was on these damn asteroids, Ronan sighed. He obviously couldn't tell this guy his real name, so he went with his alias from the resistant movement instead: "You may call me Machine. We must be quick about it, I am short of time." The Kree's voice was intimidating, as if he wanted to let that guy on the other side know how determined he was and that he would transmit a message either way. His muscles were already flexed, showing off that it would be easy for him to demolish the wooden beams and break into the small hut.

Peter bit on his lips and swallowed down a giggle. _Seriously? Machine? There are hundreds of words and names which would fit better!_ Or... now that he thought of it... Maybe that was how Ronan was thinking of himself? A soulless device that performs a task? However, following the Kree's example to not reveal his real name, Quill proudly announced his own special outlaw name: "I'm Star-Lord. Also in a hurry. I think..."

The oddly coloured eyes twitched quizzically: "What!? ... What's wrong with dem kids nowadays?... You're fucking retards! Star-Lord my ass..."

Nevertheless, a hatch opened next to them, inviting the two to come inside. The place was tiny. With Peter, Ronan and the operative in the room, every inch of the place was filled out. The interior consisted solely of monitors, buttons, microphones and huge equalizers. It blinked and beeped everywhere. Nuzzled bits of messages formed a humming undertone, making it hard to concentrate. The dimmed light and dark shadows covered the operative mysteriously and Peter had no idea where that guy ended and where his chair began. He looked weird, different than expected from the eyes. Instead of a humanoid person, he was more a... slug? No. Maybe walrus without tusks? Yeah... something in between. The slimy skin was a dark brown, shimmering green when light touched it. The arms were only skin and bones, yet the rest of his body and chair was massive.

"Ping and coordinates?", rattled his voice, marked from too many smokes.

"Coordinates are not of importance. Target area is Greater Maggellanic Cloud..."

"Check."

"Ping is long, short, long, long, short, long, short, short."

"Check."

The man-slug tapped a needle onto a metal pad in quick intervals. Everytime the needle met the pad, a low beep was audible and a tiny arc of light flashed. He spun on some buttons and a static noise overpowered all other messages. The three waited.

Peter screened the room. He didn't know why he had joined the Kree, but his blue friend had looked so troubled. Also Ronan was way stronger and had dragged him around the whole Outlaw Post as if Peter was a small child, not a grown man. Fighting back would not have been possible anyway. He wondered what the others were up to. Gamora and the Guardians might search for them. _Damn, I hope they don't think that I am dead and Ronan had escaped..._

Two beeps came as a delayed answer.

"May I have a microphone?" requested Ronan and promptly got a small stick handed over. The stick resembled a ballpen with one single button. He pushed it and a small, blue LED lighted up.

"Radar, do you copy? Over."

No answer, only static noise.  
The Kree's eyes lingered on the incoming waves, which were displayed on a screen in front of them.

"Where those two beeps actually an answer?" Peter rose to question after a while.

"Yes. They might not answer directly because they do not know this station."

_Two beeps._

Ronan inhaled deeply and let out a long, relieving sigh.

"Are the Bloodhounds hunting you, Radar? Over."

Neither Peter nor the operative knew what this question meant, but there was an answer almost instantly.  
A female voice shrilled through the litte room: "Who is there? Over."

"Machine. Over." Peter saw that the Kree smiled slightly. Maybe Ronan knew the person on the other end personally?

Silence again.

They waited almost five minutes, until the man-slug grunted annoyed and wanted to push a button. Ronan grabbed after the bony arm and interfered before the operative could do anything. "If you end this conversation, I will end your life," he snarled. 

A whining sound left the operative and he withdrew his arm, nursing it with slow strokes.

Tiny drops of sweat formed on the Kree's brow. Time was short, they had to act as soon as possible! He spoke again into the microphone: "Radar, do not hang up on me," Ronan whispered, fearing that she had cut the connection. "Engines' life is at risk. Do you still copy? Over."

The female voice was on again. It was low and trembling this time, not so strong as before: "This can't be..." A sob.

Ronan was glad that she was still there, yet it always drove him mad whenever a person was delaying important tasks without any reason. _This all takes too long!_ He knew that his next move was real biggest-asshole-of-the-universe material right there, but only drastic measurements would fully convince the woman on the other side of the line. With his deepest, most threatening voice he shouted into the microphone as if he wanted to kill that lady right there and now: 

"I want to bathe in your _flesh_ , I want to savor your _fear_. I want to live inside a castle built of YOUR AGONY. _GODDAMMIT WOMAN!_ You KNOW it's me so give me your DAMN coordinates already! ... .. ... _Over_."

Peter's mouth just dropped open. **What the actual fuck.** What was wrong with this Kree? 1.000% asshole choleric!? Even the man-slug got it that the female person on the other end seemed to cry and all Ronan could do was dropping the worst pick-up line in the history of the universe!?

"By the name of Hala... it is... you... _Machine_..." the sobbing changed and a light cry of joy let assume that the female's mood had switched.

Peter threw his hands above his head, expressing that he would never understand Kree customs _and_ all the women inside the observable galaxy.

"Radar, listen to me!" Ronan knew that she finally believed him. "Please, transmit your coordinates to this station. I will come home. Over."

"Hey!" Peter reached for Ronan's shoulder and made a combined gesture with his hands and head, asking silently what the Kree was doing. Ronan closed his eyes slowly and opened them again. He squeezed the Terran's shoulder back and indicated that he would explain everything to Peter when they would be finished here.

A printer started to move and spilled out a piece of paper next to them. Known to every captain, Peter and Ronan saw that coordinates had been provided. The Kree reached out for the paper, but the operative was faster...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really fun to write XD I love choleric Ronan and if you have ever played Borderlands, than you might know the quote.  
> If not, enjoy this beautiful piece of rage [right here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dd0IaBX8cEU). Krieg is one of my most adored characters in videogame history ever. His... speeches are so beautiful... xD  
> I DRINK THE BLOOD AND EAT THE LOOT .... how can someone not love this? XDDD
> 
> Anyway, sorry for the shortness of the chapter but... we actually did it. We reached the end of my finished chapters. The new ones will take a bit longer. I know where I want to go and what to write, but it's still a bit of work. I'll try to upload as fast as I can :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> omg, the last update was 7th September 2015 ...... X'D whoops
> 
> Anyway, I love my first fanfic and the headcanon, so I will not abandon it!   
> It is just getting harder to write because there are some OCs coming and I know that most of the readers don't like OCs  
> I try to keep their roles as small as possible and have as much StarAccuser in here as possible, too!
> 
> I am still travelling around India, Nepal and Sri Lanka, being back in Germany in July. I hope to write one or even two more chapters!   
> Yet as you will notice with this chapter, the quality might not be that good x'D  
> I want to tell this story but I also want to tell it a little faster ... no idea how it will work out, but I WILL FINISH IT ^_°

There was a smug expression on the operative's face. He held the paper close to his fat belly but hadn't had a look at it. Studying the reaction of the blue man, who was just about to pounce at him, he quickly turned with his chair to better face the Xandarian. The Xandarian, obviously the one in charge, because he was holding the blue man back, had the weirdest/scared face expression. It was amusing for the operative, though eventually he tried to calm both of them down:

"Shut yer mouths! We haven't discussed payment yet!" The different colored eyes gauged every movement of his two visitors. They were definitely a pack he had never seen before. A buff douche, probably one of those dirty gladiators from the pits, and then this... this... sick looking Xandarian. Was he sick or just looking that way? The operative would probably never know. He himself was a bit sick, thus lips dry and cracking. Even licking over them wasn't hydrating them enough, so he began to chew them, and mumbled further: "What can you offer me?"

Peter instantely opened his mouth and wanted to speak but wasn't sure on what to answer. He lifted his finger, opened his mouth again ... but still wasn't sure what to say. On his third attempt he finally said:

"Well, no idea, buddy. Tokens? Units?"

"A punch in the face, maybe?" suggested Ronan, who was still being held back by the Terran. Peter had wedged himself between the Kree and the man-slug and was doing a good job on blocking Ronan, preventing complete disaster.

"I ain't got needs for Units or Tokens." The operative began to slightly crumble the paper, yet before Ronan was able to push Peter away and beat the man-slug to death, the Terran had spotted the end of a familiar looking cable and reached out for it.

"Hold on, man!"

Quill produced a box out of his jacket pocket and connected it with the cable. Leaning over the consoles and pressing some buttons, he filled the small room with an uncommon, rhythmic noise.

"It's something from my home planet." He retreated a little and looked concerned at Ronan, who was only staring back at him.

"Oh! Oh, I like this!" The slug began to wobble. "What is this?"

"Err, music." Peter scratched nervously at his neck, hoping his plan would succeed: "I may allow you to copy the tape, but only if you hand over those damn coordinates!"

"Deal!" The operative threw the paper instantely into the direction of Peter and Ronan, who were both greedily grabbing after it. Peter snatched the paper first and quickly folded it together, storing it in his jacket pocket. He looked at Ronan and nodded.

The man-slug was grinning and wobbled to the rhythm of the music as excited as a little kid, spinning on some wheels and pushing buttons. A loading bar popped up on a screen and showed how fast the mixtape was copied onto the slug's computer. After a low bing and a blinking 100%, Peter disconnected his walkman and stuffed it back into his pocket. Ronan was already tugging on his sleeve, demanding to leave immediately, but Peter couldn't withhold and told the operative all the names of the different songs. Only after that he turned to leave.

Outside, the wind had risen up and smacked both of them in the face with it's cold breeze.

"We have to get back as fast as we can, Peter. Otherwise we might not be able to take off due to the upcoming storm," Ronan spoke with a really concerned voice, making it clear that he was desperate to leave.

"Alright, we gonna make it! Let's head straight back to the Milano," Peter answered while already breaking into a slow jog. "Though we somehow have to get the others to the ship as well!"

"Do you have your comm with you?" Ronan matched the Terran's strides easily and jogged next to him down the mountain path.

"Yeah, but I don't have any of their numbers."

 _By Hala, what kind of team is this!?_ "Hand it over, I know Gamora's."

"You know her number!? How the fuck did you get that?" Peter was heartbroken. Gamora had been so stern about it to keep her number private. Her main argument was that she didn't need to recieve certain ~~dick~~ messages from Peter (he would never have send one to her, he had sworn, yet still no success). Though she gave it to her maniac-boss? So rude ...

"I asked Nebula," the Kree returned while dialing the green assassin's number.

_Ah, that makes sense as well._

"Gamora?" the Kree eventually said into the comm. She must have picked up. "Please go to the Milano. We are leaving the ... Peter? ... Yes, he is with me. We are ... yes, he is alive. We will be ... _Gamora_ , have you forgotten who I am? Stop interrupting me. Peter is alive and well and yes I will delete this log and your number as soon as we hang up. Please board the space craft. Yes. _Over._ "

Ronan groaned and cut the connection. Rolling his eyes, he handed the comm back. Peter saw that the number was still on the small display and grinned widely, yet due to not paying any attention to his surroundings and the terrain, he tripped slightly and, trying to avoid falling, swung his arms to regain his balance. As he looked again at the display, he only saw a #. He must have flexed his fingers and pressed the button thus deleting Gamora's number and log entry.

"Oh noooooo!" he whined and slowed down.

"You're an idiot and if you slow down even more a dead one!" the Kree threatened and made Peter pick up speed again.

They were running down the hill back to the main street, accompanied by the chilling breeze and low growling of the approaching thunderstorm. Ronan dashed through the masses without any mercy. He even pushed kids away and made them fall onto the ground. Peter tried to keep up with the Kree as best as he could and in doing so he even managed to throw apologies to each and everyone who had gotten into the way of the blue warrior.

The way back had definitely been shorter and sooner than expected they were standing in front of the Milano, Peter huffing and puffing as if he had run a marathon. Rocket and 1.5 meter Groot were already standing in the hatchway and the furry animal moved his paws to welcome them in.

"What's the matter, blue man? Why the hurry?"

"We don't have much time, a storm is approaching. I will explain everything in detail when we're in deep space."

The Milano was taking off two minutes later, catapulting them into the stormclouds. They were lucky as the storm hadn't build up completely. The turbolences were only lightly rocking the ship and Peter showed off what a good captain he was by getting the M-ship out of the belt of asteroids in less than 10 minutes. Meanwhile the Kree had contacted that lady again, to whom he was only referring to as Radar. Her voice, with the same accent that Ronan had, was echoing through the ship as they made out different coordinates to meet up.

When they were finally in deep space, all of the Guardians met in the kitchen. It happened to be the place with the biggest communal area plus there was food.

"Alright now. Tell me why we had to leave that place so suddenly? Did the Operator realize what kind of a douche you are and wanted to kill ya again?" Rocket teased while munching on some mixed crackers and nuts.

"No," Ronan leaned back as if he prepared for some story telling, but then stayed silent.

"No? Then what is your problem?" the augmented raccoon was getting more and more pissed off the longer the Kree stayed silent.

"Well, it isn't easy to explain and I am sure that you won't like what I am about to tell you."

"Gods, Ronan," Peter groaned, also annoyed now. "Just spill the beans, mate!"

Popping some of the snacks into his mouth as well, the Kree began to explain while chewing: "We are currently flying into the direction of one of my other battle cruisers, wherein the resistance is located. The lady you were listening to earlier is the first commander of that ship and will grant us access when we approach it. Basically, we are flying to my home base."

"Woho hold on there," Rocket lifted his paws and glared angrily at Peter. "Is that guy really telling me that we're flying to a fucking Kree warship?"

Peter only raised his eyebrows, then returned: "Seems so?"

"Are you out of yo-" the small raccoon was about to go to town with insults yet got interrupted by Ronan:

" _Rocket!_ I knew you wouldn't like this but be assured that the Kree on that ship are my soldiers, who listen to everything I say, and are not some sort of uncontrollable Ravagers."

"That is exactly what is wrong with this! They are _your_ people! You could just tell them to kill us all!" 

"Why should I do that? I surely prefer to kill you with my own hands." The Kree countered and managed to stay calm. "The ship is bigger than the Dark Aster. You will have enough space to yourself if you despise my folk that much. In the end you will see that it is a better option to be at than small pebbles floating somewhere around the Quadrant."

"Ronan," Gamora addressed the Kree, "could you maybe tell us a little more about those Kree we're about to meet? Maybe that clearifies it."

"Well, the two most important people you will meet are Radar, the first commander, and Engine, my deputy. I know them both for a very long time now. We built up the resistance together."

"Maybe you could also start by telling us their real names ..." Peter folded both his hands behind his head, leaned back and winked at the Kree. "... _Machine_."

At that, Ronan shook his head: "Please, _Star-Lord_ , just think for a minute. It is the Kree resistance we are talking about. If their real names would be known then their families would be put into danger. It is not within my limits to reveal their true identities. Ask them nicely and they may answer." 

A sudden shockwave hit the M-ship and made Groot fall from his chair. All the others had hold tight onto the table or cupboards out of reflex. Drax looked around and checked on everyone, extending one of his arms to give Groot's roots something to hold on to, helping the perplexed plant-child back onto his feet. "What was that?" he asked confused into the round but Peter had already jumped up and climbed up the ladder to the cockpit.

"Oh god! ... _Guys_!" the Terran shouted from above. "Look at this!"

One after another climbed the ladder to the cockpit and mumbled 'holy shit' or 'the fuck'. Only Ronan smirked and strode over to the comm station. Yet before he was able to sent off a message, the female Kree voice echoed through the ship again:

"Machine, do you copy? Is this your ship? Over."

The view out of the Milano's cockpit was blocked from left to right by a massive Kree warship. It seemed as if the cruiser had no limits, it went on and on and on. The design was similar to the Dark Aster, with red marks all over the hull, yet four bird-like wings instead of two were building the main part of the ship. 

_I know this ship_ , Peter thought and looked over to the Kree, who was standing at the communication console. _I saw it in his past!_

Ronan bend over and spoke into a little microphone: "Yes, I do copy. Bios finally repaired the quant jump?"

"Yes, sir. I will disable the controls of the M-ship now." Without any more forewarnings, the Milano shut down, lights and engine turning off, leaving the Guardians in total darkness.

"What the HELL?" Quill yelled and clawed at the console in front of him. "My ship!"

" _Force field disabled_." 

"Ronan, what the hell are they doing with _my ship_?" the Terran barked at the Kree, who had made his way over to him.

"Radar has to do this, otherwise the Milano will give away the location of _my ship_."

" _Lock through begins in 3 ... 2 ... 1 ..._ "

\--- --- ---

After what seemed to be eons, the Milano came to a halt on a landing platform. The magnetic field, which had transported it into the battle cruiser's core, shut down as soon as the Ravager's space craft touched the electric ground. Peter had paced up and down the cockpit in distress the whole time. As soon as the lights flickered back on and the engine roared up, he jumped to the console and checked if all systems were restored to their previous status. Letting out a reliefed sigh, he fell backwards into his captain's chair and wished droplets of sweat from his forehead. His ship was his baby, his _home_. He just didn't like it when other people were messing with it.

The landing platform was hardly illuminated. Only a few blue shining lightbulbs were embedded in the wall around them, marking the limits of the cubicle. The rest was laid in total darkness until a door slid open in one of the corners. Groot noted it at first and informed the others by saying 'I am Groot' multiple times and waving his tiny branches.

"That is Radar," Ronan commented the figure, which passed through the gate, and began to smile.

They moved downstairs and waited together for the hatch to open. Rocket had grabbed after Groot's leafy hand and held it tight, where as Gamora and Drax had unsheated their daggers. Peter pushed the button of the airlock, opening the hatch, and watching Ronan intensly. The Kree seemed to be nervous, flexing his hands and rearranging and patting down his black vest multiple times. It was him who went down the hatchway first and strode towards the blue Kree woman.

Her skin was the same blue shade Ronan had, yet her eyes were shining like molten gold. Her curly black hair hung down till her lower back, enframing her sinful silhouette. She wore tight black leathers, high boots and a top that revealed almost too much. Black stripes were tattooed on her lightly defined abs and arms, almost painting her like a wild cat.

Ronan halted in front of her, smirking at first, but then changing his expression into a warm smile.

"My beautiful-"  
And earned a very fine slap right into his face before he could finish his greetings.

It was silent until the last echoes of the slap ebbed away and low sobs filled the air. The Kree woman drew her hand in front of her mouth, trying to hold her tears back. However, as Ronan slung his arms around her and stirring her into a hug, she couldn't maintain her attitude anymore and gave in, drowning in the embrace.

"Did that lady just bitch slap Ronan the Accuser?" Peter asked perplexed into the round.

"Huh," returned Gamora, "I like her already."

 


End file.
